Tale of Years: 1933
by Jessica314
Summary: In 1933, Carlisle unexpectedly adds to his family when he discovers Rosalie Hale lying near death in downtown Rochester. Can be read alone, or as the fourth installment in the Tale of Years series. Canon-Friendly Twilight Prequel, Edward POV.
1. Life is Good

**Disclaimer: The Twilight universe belongs to Stephenie Meyer. No profit is made here, and no offense intended.**

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><p>I couldn't remember ever having been so busy before. We had lived in upstate New York for almost two years now, and I was beginning the spring semester of my sophomore year at the University of Rochester. I was majoring in Biology with an emphasis in Pre-Med. I found college to be much more stimulating than high school, both in terms of the classes and in the hundreds of minds I was able to follow throughout each day. I did have to pay attention to my professors, as the material was new to me, but when I had spare moments I enjoyed dipping into different students' minds, following along in <em>their<em> lectures as well as my own. I especially liked listening in on engineering lectures, music classes, and mathematics. In this way, I was never bored, and I was able to keep my mind off the tempting scents of the humans around me.

After my close call back in Montana, I had seriously doubted whether I would be ready to begin my college career upon our arrival in New York. But Carlisle had spent the spring and summer helping me desensitize myself to human scent, much like he had done when I was a newborn. But the process was much quicker this time, and by the time classes started, I was ready. I had been obliged to escape the campus a few times, and Carlisle had written a note to excuse me from all future physical education classes, as those presented the highest risk of students injuring themselves, and thus bleeding in front of me. To this end, he provided the necessary documentation for my diagnosis of hemophilia, which also explained my refusal to participate in any laboratory classes that involved needles. This semester would be tricky, however- I had a dissection lab, and I was a bit nervous about the scalpels that my classmates would be wielding.

I had chosen the pre-med track as a gift to Carlisle. I was immensely grateful to him, not only for his forgiveness, but also for his help with my control over my thirst. I didn't plan on ever actually going to medical school, but my this was a way for Carlisle to vicariously keep up with the latest advances in medical science. The discovery of Penicillin had altered the field significantly, and he was eager to keep up with the changes in every way possible.

Carlisle himself was busy with his patients at Highland Hospital, where he worked the night shift in the Emergency Room. He was also able to participate in vaccine research at the University, and our paths crossed on campus occasionally. I was posing this time as Esme's younger brother; our similar hair color was the inspiration for this. The story was that my wealthy brother-in-law and sister had agreed to take me in after my parents were killed in a car accident two years ago. The recent trauma this history provided was enough to explain why I was so shy on campus, and although there weren't any girls in my major, my quiet, standoffish demeanor was usually enough to keep the few female students at bay.

We lived in a two-story house that backed up against Northampton Park, and I had my first automobile. It was a dark blue Lincoln V-12, and the envy of my classmates. Carlisle had disapproved of the purchase at first, saying that we should try to fit in with poor economy, but in the end he allowed me this one indulgence. It had a top cruising speed of ninety miles an hour, but in order to protect the engine I generally kept it below seventy. Ironically, the drive to and from school was the most tedious part of my day; I could run much faster than this. Still, it was necessary to keep up appearances, and I had to admit that I enjoyed the mental drooling of my classmates when they saw me pull into the campus parking lot.

Esme was accompanying me to school today. After work last night, Carlisle had come onto the campus to do a bit of research, and Esme was coming to meet him for "lunch" later on. We pulled into the parking lot, but we were forced to sit and wait out the burst of sunshine that had found a hole in the clouds this morning.

"What do you have today, Edward?" Esme asked as we waited.

"I have my biochemistry lecture, followed by English Lit, and then my dissection lab begins this afternoon." I made a face as I thought of the lab; being around a chemically-preserved human corpse for three hours wasn't going to be pleasant. I was also worried because Larry Thornton was in my dissection group; he was notoriously clumsy and I hoped he wouldn't cut accidentally himself right in front of his vampire lab partner.

Esme wrinkled her nose, as well. "That sounds awful. Maybe Carlisle could have you excused."

"No, I'd like to try it. I'm interested to learn more about anatomy," I admitted. "Now that I'm two years into it, I find the field of Biology interesting. Even though I'll never really practice medicine, perhaps I can assist Carlisle in his research someday."

"Oh, that would be wonderful! Though I think you underestimate your control, Edward. You would make a fine physician."

"Let's not find out," I said darkly. Carlisle and I had told Esme about the man I had almost killed on our final day in Montana, but she seemed determined to forget it.

"Well, I think you should pursue whatever field you find interesting. It's so nice to see you enjoying yourself!" She reached over and smoothed that stubborn lock of hair that always irked her. I grinned and flicked it back out of place as soon as she turned to look out the window. Our peaceful family life was a healing balm to me, after my years away. I would never again take for granted my parent's love, and I understood now how lucky I was to have it. Esme was the best mother I could imagine, and was always trying to see the best in me. We often spent our evenings together, working on the house while Carlisle was at work.

When we had first arrived, Esme had tried in vain to hide her disappointment with the house Carlisle had purchased so many years ago. She knew how much it meant to him, and so it was several days before I finally broke one of my rules: I went and told Carlisle how Esme felt about it. He encouraged her to make any changes she wanted, and within a week the entire thing was torn down. Esme had had the time of her life designing the new house, and we simply lived in the woods while it was being built. I took care to absent myself while the men were working, as my control was still shaky at the time. After the main construction was complete, Esme and I took on the bulk of the painting, finishing, and decorating, since Carlisle had already started his new job at the hospital. Just this past Thursday, we had put the finishing touches on the stone fireplace, and later this week we were going to begin work on a deck behind the kitchen. It was nice to spend time with Esme, doing what she loved. I found I enjoyed learning a bit about carpentry;I was planning on surprising her with a homemade greenhouse for a Mother's Day gift.

The sun finally winked out, and a quick glance at the sky reassured us that we had a good cloud cover for at least the next half hour. I nodded to Esme, and we walked into the science building together, chatting and laughing as we went. We stopped in to visit Carlisle, and I left them there, hurrying to make my first class on time.

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The biochemistry lecture was fascinating. I was careful not to read ahead in my classes, as much as I wanted to; it was much more fun to learn from the professor. Dr. Banner was an eccentric man, with tufts of white hair and eyebrows poking out around his spectacles, and although he wasn't always correct on the subject matter, he made it interesting.

My next class was English Literature. This was the class where I usually let my mind wander, as I had already read most of the books we were discussing. There was a mechanical engineering lecture taking place at the same time, as well as a Musical History course; I usually divided my attention between the two, my English professor never the wiser. But my real problem with this class was Royce King II. He was an arrogant, stupid young man who had already been expelled from Cornell after too much carousing, and his rich parents had paid a considerable bribe in order for him to continue his education here. He was only taking a few classes at a time; his father was grooming him for his future in bank management in the afternoons. He wouldn't have been able to handle much of a course load, at any rate.

Royce's mind was so lecherous and asinine that I generally avoided it. Unfortunately, he didn't avoid _me_. He found my lack of social involvement amusing, and since he had no intention of listening to any of the lectures, he usually spent the hour joking with his cronies about me or harassing me directly. He was feeling mischievous today, and I groaned as I saw his plans to torment me later on during the class. I took a seat up near the front of the lecture hall, hoping this would discourage him.

He and his three favorites entered just as the professor was beginning her lecture. She frowned at their tardiness and gestured with her hand toward the front row, which was empty except for me. Wonderful.

Royce took the place next to me, flopping down in the seat and purposely slamming his arm into mine as he did so. I recoiled enough so that he wouldn't feel the granite hardness of my arm, answering his idiotic sneer with a glare of my own. He was quiet for most of the lecture, at least. But near the end of class, we were instructed to discuss the third chapter of _Pride and Prejudice_ with those students nearest us. I had no intention of discussing anything with Royce King, and left him to his friends. They were congratulating him on his recent engagement to one of the local girls, and I strained to focus my attention on the music lecture as their minds descended into an especially distasteful level; they were teasing him about his upcoming wedding night.

"Enough of this," he said haughtily to his fellows. "We're supposed to be discussing Austen. Take, for example, the icy unfriendliness of Mr. Darcy. He seems quite familiar, don't you agree?" They all snickered, peeking over at me. I rolled my eyes at their juvenile attempts to rile me and picked up my book, pretending to read.

"Now that you mention it, he does," answered another one of them loudly. "When a man spends his time reading women's novels, I suppose he would turn out like Mr. Darcy. Cold, pretentious and _completely_ unaware of what to do with a woman."

Royce guffawed at this and grabbed my book out of my hands. "Boys, let's see if Darcy can give Edward a few pointers," he joked as he flipped through the pages. I gritted my teeth and turned on him with just the right amount of danger in my eyes. I was careful to keep my lips closed- it wouldn't do to scare them _too_ much.

Royce's laughter died out when he saw this, and he carelessly tossed the book back onto my desk. _Creep_.

I smiled to myself; Royce had no idea how lucky he was that we hadn't met three years ago. He was exactly the sort of man that I would have hunted down. Although I saw no evidence that he had committed a serious crime yet, I could tell what direction he was heading in. I had voiced my concern to Carlisle last semester, but he had advised me to stay out of it.

"Remember, Edward. Remember where playing God got you before." That was enough to silence me on the subject, though I pitied the poor girl who was doomed to marry him soon. Hopefully she knew what she was getting into.

Class was over now, and I sauntered out, not bothering to respond to the jeers behind me. The next three hours were challenging in a different way; the stench of the dissection lab was utterly revolting. Fortunately, Larry Thornton was careful with his scalpel, and since none of my group were chatty, I was able to get though the lab without too much breathing.

As I drove home that afternoon, eagerly looking forward scrubbing off the cadaver stench, I smiled to myself as I rolled down the window, savoring the clean air as it hit my face. I enjoyed my schooling, and I had the best family in the world. If my biggest problems were an odiferous cadaver and an Neanderthal for a classmate, life was looking good.


	2. Rosalie Hale

The three of us usually spent the weekends up in the Adirondacks. Spring was in full flower now, and the hunting was especially good. I usually came back home alone just before dawn on Sundays. This gave Carlisle and Esme some time alone in the wilderness, and it gave me a chance to work on the greenhouse.

I had confided in Carlisle regarding this habit several weeks ago, and he promised to keep Esme out until dusk each Sunday. I had my project hidden about a mile into the woods behind our backyard, with a separate set of tools I kept there for that purpose. I had decided to work on the greenhouse at human speed, just as Esme and I had done with the deck- this is why it was taking so many Sundays to complete. I found the slow motion on this particular project to be an inspiration. If I had been working at my top speed, I might have missed so many chances to pause and add little personal touches to the greenhouse- a little shelf here, a tiny drawer for seeds there.

Today I had assembled a set of six wrought iron rods, each twenty feet long and an inch in diameter. I was weaving them together in a loose braid, and using my creation to form a trellis around the door frame. I installed a pot at each end of the trellis, thinking Esme might like to have roses climbing around the door.

I was standing back, admiring my handiwork and adjusting the bend of the rods here and there, deep in concentration. Perhaps next week I could start painting the-

"Quite nice, Edward."

I jumped at least ten feet up in the air in my surprise, twisting instinctively so that I could land in an attack crouch, facing my attacker. It was Carlisle, of course, and I sheepishly stood up to my full height.

"You shouldn't sneak up on people," I growled.

He chuckled good-naturedly. "I don't think I've ever managed to sneak up on _you_ before. What were you thinking about so hard?"

I showed him around the work I had accomplished since he had visited it last. He praised my handiwork, and made a couple of suggestions to improve my carpentry.

"Something's still not right about the trellis," I mused. I walked up and touched the braided iron gently. "It's too… masculine."

"Well, maybe you just need to find the right touch," Carlisle suggested. He lifted his hand up into the iron braid as well, applying a bit more pressure to one of the rods. He pinched a bit of the metal away from the rest, flattening it between his fingers. He molded it into a leaf shape, using one of his fingernails to carve a delicate pattern of veins on the leaf. "There."

I stared at his creation, amazed. I had never thought to use my strength for something like _that_. I tried making a leaf, bungling it at first. It took three tries to modulate my strength correctly, and finally I was pleased with the result. "Wait, let me try something," I said more to myself than Carlisle. I ran my fingers along the length of one of the rods, twisting my fingernail along it several times, until I had created a pattern reminiscent of tiny vines crawling along the large one. I pinched the end of one of the vines, pulling it away until it was the thinness of a wire, and carefully curling it around my other hand several times. When I pulled my hand out, a wild, natural-looking spiral looked like it was growing out of the trellis.

"Remarkable!" breathed Carlisle. "It looks like you have next Sunday's work cut out for you."

I hadn't noticed that it was already dusk- it made sense of course, since Carlisle was here. I draped the large canvas sheet over my project and began walking back to the house with my father.

"It's nice to see you learning a new skill, Edward. First carpentry, and now ironworks!" _Not to mention your coursework. You've quite a full life this year, son. I'm very proud of your progress._

I nodded my acknowledgement of his unspoken compliment. I had no way of telling, in times like this, whether Carlisle was actually proud of me, or whether he was just trying to be. I drank in his proud thoughts, or at least those thoughts he wanted me to hear; but I had no way of seeing how genuine his feelings were, or how he thought of me when I wasn't around. There was no way that I could fully restore his faith in me, after what I had done. And there was no pretending that I would ever be the son he had hoped I would be. But at times like this, I liked to think that I was doing my best.

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The next morning, I was sitting through my English lecture, trying to ignore the childish antics of Royce and his friends. Why did he even bother coming to class? He would just end up bribing the teacher for his grade, anyway. He had spent over a thousand dollars in the last semester alone in this fashion, and he was only a part-time student! I was entertaining myself with the fantasy of "accidentally" breaking his leg, so that he would be required to have a private tutor the rest of the term… at _home_.

_Boy, Cullen is such a creep. Wonder what he's thinking about._ Royce was frowning at me, and in his eyes I saw how my fantasy had spread a crooked smile across part of my face. Oh, well. At that moment the professor dismissed us, and we filed out of the room. We converged with other groups of students in the hall, and I held my breath as the bodies pressed against me. As the crowd approached the outside door, I frowned to see the full sunlight outside. The almanac had promised clouds all day, but apparently one of the clouds had forgotten to make its appearance. I ducked into an empty classroom near the door to wait it out.

Outside, Royce's friends were teasing him; it seemed his fiancée had come to meet him so they could have lunch together on the campus. I decided to follow the scene through the girl's mind – I certainly didn't want to be in Royce's head right now. His thoughts were disgusting enough when he _wasn't_ staring at the woman he was about to marry. Also, I was curious to get a glimpse of the girl who had the misfortune of marrying Royce King.

"Well, Rose, this is a pleasant surprise," drawled Royce in a voice which meant it was anything but pleasant.

I dipped into his mind just for a split second, so I could see what the girl looked like. I wasn't too surprised to recognize Rosalie Hale, the famed belle of upper-class Rochester; while her family wasn't quite on par with the Kings in terms of wealth, they were certainly well-to-do. She was smartly dressed in a rose-colored skirt suit, and her golden hair was attractively drawn up and tucked under a matching hat, which was decked with miniature roses. Her coloring was exquisite, and as Royce swept his eyes quickly over her body, my own eyes widened in appreciation. I had seen her a couple of times before, from a distance, when we had first moved here. But now that she was older, and now that I was looking up close, she was without a doubt one of the most beautiful women I had ever seen.

She was smiling coyly at Royce now, and her lips curved just the right way, a tiny dimple on one side. She certainly lived up to her reputation, then. But when I settled into her mind, I was disappointed at what I found there. She was a selfish, shallow girl, and she was thinking so much of her own appearance that she didn't notice the reticence in Royce's tone.

"Hello, darling! I thought I would surprise you today- we could luncheon together and take a stroll around campus before you return to your father."

Royce leaned down to place a gentlemanly kiss on her cheek, and through Rosalie's thoughts, I could see that she was more interested in being seen _with_ Royce than in actually being with him.

The entrance to the hall darkened as the tardy cloud cover arrived, and I picked up my books and headed out the door. As I passed by Royce and Rosalie, her thoughts were a surprising spew of condescension.

_There goes Dr. Cullen's brother-in-law. Edward, or Edmund, something like that. There's something wrong with those two; men shouldn't be so beautiful. It's annoying, and it's unnatural. Royce is just right- handsome enough to be with me, but not so handsome that I need to worry. Still, it's good he agreed to hurry the wedding along. Once I have him in hand, he'll stop acting like such a child._

I automatically glanced back at her in reaction to her ugly thoughts, and she sent me a false smile. _Ugh, he's so creepy. I mean, I know he can't help staring- what man can? He is far more handsome up close... but he just makes me feel odd. I hope HE __isn't one of Royce's chums._

I chuckled as I headed out to the parking lot. It appeared they were made for each other, after all. Good luck to them.

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When I got home that afternoon, I stopped beside the porch to hose myself down. On the first day I had come home after dissection lab, Esme had refused to let me in the house until I sprayed off at least some of the cadaver smell, and it had become a habit. It was good that we didn't have neighbors close by- I must have looked a sight back in mid-January, standing in the snow and spraying myself with icy water. It was icy again today, actually- we were in the middle of a cold snap. I didn't think I'd ever seen such a frigid April before. Of course, it worked well with the gift I was making for Esme- with the late winter this year, her greenhouse would come in handy.

After I had drenched myself, I shook my hair out and headed in through the kitchen door. Esme was upstairs, thinking about Carlisle, who was writing letters in his study. She missed him, and she laid down her pencil- she had been sketching ideas for her gardening- and crept silently down the hall, bursting into his office and surprising him. He laughed and pulled her down into his lap, gladly accepting her eager kisses. I smiled up toward the ceiling, and headed back out the door. I would need to stay out for at least a couple of hours, unless I wanted a mental play-by-play.

I decided to work on the greenhouse for a while. I could still easily hear my parents' thoughts, but with a mile between us, it was much easier to tune them out. I spent the rest of the afternoon and early evening finishing the detail on the trellis, and by nightfall I was quite pleased with the result. The lifeless iron rods had transformed into a delicate work of art, worthy of Esme's own beauty.

I thought of Esme as my mother, but I wasn't blind- she was gorgeous. But her beauty ran deep; her loving nature and tender heart were what made her truly beautiful. These things, and the many other unique tidbits that made up her personality, were the reasons that Carlisle loved her- and the love that they shared made her even more radiant. From the few minutes I had observed Rosalie Hale's mind, it was obvious that her beauty was only on the outside. Comparing her to Esme was like comparing an incandescent bulb to a full moon.

I compared my parents to Royce and Rosalie; what a difference. The future in store for the engaged couple would be devoid of the warm, vibrant love that Carlisle and Esme shared- and they were the human ones!

I still didn't like what I was, but I couldn't deny that our kind was capable of true love. What my parents had was actually much stronger than any human couple would be capable of. There were eternal implications to their love, as well as the supernatural strength of the mating bond, and vampire emotions in general.

I began packing away my tools in thoughtful silence. Would I ever know that kind of love? In my years of hunting humans, the thought hadn't crossed my mind even once. Oh, I had seen plenty of beautiful women, some of which had the kind of mind that I liked listening to. But they had all been human, and in those days I wasn't even pretending to be human. Now that I was back in a human lifestyle, I felt more like a man again, instead of just a monster. I had begun noticing the few women at my college- not that there were many. Most of them were quite intelligent- a woman had to be, to make it this far in her education. America was changing, but it was still a man's world in 1933- especially in the university environment.

It was actually a relief to have so few young women around me – in my high school days, I had been surrounded by the girlish attentions and fantasies of my adolescent classmates. At least at college I didn't have to deal with _that_, so much. But I couldn't deny that there was a tiny sense of loneliness nagging at the back of my mind. I hadn't realized what it was, at first. I had been lonely for my parents, and reuniting with them had brought immense relief. But I noticed that whenever one of professors strolled by with his wife, or whenever one of my classmates was nervously anticipating a date on the coming weekend, I felt… lonely. I felt that I was missing something, even though those relationships I envied were human ones.

Ironically, the one couple that didn't make me feel this way was the happiest one- Carlisle and Esme. I never felt like a third wheel at home, because we were comfortably settled into our roles as parents and child. They treated me as an adult in almost every way, and I had no complaints. And I didn't begrudge them their time alone together. They sometimes felt guilty about it, but their guilt was unfounded, and I had made sure that they understood my feelings on this. No son was ever happier for his parents. But their marriage was an inspiration to me, and now that I was spending time around classmates who were thinking about marriage, I was beginning to think more about what I was missing. _I_ wanted someone to cherish like Carlisle had Esme.

But what were the chances that I would ever even meet someone? How many vampresses were there in the world, and how many centuries might it be until I actually ran across another one? Carlisle had met some vampires that I hadn't, but as far as I knew, they were mostly male. Besides my cousins -_and Jane_, I recalled with a shudder- I simply didn't _know_ any women of my own species.

There was the other possibility, of course; the way that Carlisle had brought Esme into his life. He had already loved her for many years, but had never intended to change her, simply to satisfy his own desire. I felt the same way as he had. I could never take a woman's life away just because I wanted to keep her; it would be the most selfish act imaginable.

But in the end, Carlisle wasn't forced to commit that sin. Esme was going to die anyway, and Carlisle's love took the decision away from him. I couldn't blame him for what he did- I only had to look at Esme's mind to know how happy she was. But what were the chances that I would come across a dying woman, and suddenly feel true love, and change her before I could stop myself? That was the only way _that_ would ever happen.

So, there it was. I would be alone for the foreseeable future, and it would be delusional to hope otherwise. Even if either of those possibilities somehow panned out – loving a dying human woman, or finally meeting an eligible female of my own kind – how could I think that my love would be returned? Or that we would actually be compatible in any way? I knew myself well enough to know that I would be choosy, and my mind-reading made that both simpler and more difficult. The Denali women were certainly not an option- though Tanya had made it clear that _I_ was an option. And I had only to look at Royce and Rosalie to know that I could never settle for anything less than what Carlisle and Esme had.

And then there was my... atonement. When I had returned to my parents and their lifestyle two years ago, I had decided that my crimes had made me unworthy of the pure sort of love that my parents had. I supposed anyone could find love- even men like Aro had their mate, after all. But the kind of woman I would want would never be able to love me, once she learned enough about me.

No, too many miracles would have to happen- simultaneously- for me to ever find the kind of love that I wished for.

It was a good thing I liked being alone.


	3. Surprise

Royce King became unbearable over the next few days. His wedding was only a week away, and it was taking all my focus to stay out of his mind as his anticipation mounted. The professor was pleased with the improvement in his behavior; as his fantasies grew, he became quieter and more still in his seat.

By the time Friday rolled around, his buddies were getting worried about him. Percy, in particular, was watching his friend thoughtfully.

_He can't be nervous, can he? I wouldn't have seen that coming. Well, it's a good thing John is coming up tonight. He's just the man we need. Maybe we'll give Royce an early bachelor party this weekend. John can turn anything into a good time. I'll swing by the liquor store on the way to the bus station, and…_

I rolled my eyes and strained to listen to some of the other thoughts behind me. Human romance rituals were becoming more peculiar with every decade. Royce's friends would loosen him up with a weekend of debauchery, and Rosalie would no doubt be pampering herself for the next week with various chemical treatments and extravagant female gatherings. No doubt both of them knew of the other's activities, and didn't seem to mind.

Carlisle and Esme's courtship had been so different. Short and sweet… and private. Since Esme had still been in her first year, Carlisle hadn't wanted to invite any of his coworkers to the wedding; he had been nervous enough about the priest he had paid to come out to Isle Esme to perform the ceremony. I wondered now if Esme had ever regretted not being able to share her wedding preparations with any girlfriends.

I shook my head. I was becoming a hopeless romantic, and the thoughts surrounding me weren't helping. At least five of my classmates in BioChem were also getting married soon. I would have to find another class or two to listen in on during that hour, or I really _was_ going to lose my mind.

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After dissection lab, I headed over to the gymnasium to use the student showers. I normally avoided the male locker rooms at all cost; the cadaver lab had nothing on it in terms of stench. But I was meeting Esme today for a hunting trip, and I had promised to be presentable. Fortunately, no one else was around, and I was showered and walking out the door in clean clothes in less than thirty seconds.

I checked the sky as I pushed open the front door of the gymnasium, worried at the patchy cloud cover. It was so _inconvenient_ on days like this; there were enough clouds that I had no reason to miss my classes, but there were enough patches of sunshine to make me paranoid. Back in my high school days, this hadn't too much of a problem, since I was in the same building all day. Here at college, though, I sometimes had a quarter-mile outdoor walk between my classes, and some of my professors were displeased with my sporadic attendance. In the winter, I had been able to relax a bit, as my overcoat, hat and gloves made the sunshine almost irrelevant. But as it was beginning to warm up, and sleeves were shortening. I would draw _more_ attention to myself if I attempted to cover up too much. At least this week had been nice and cold.

Esme was sitting on the bleachers on the far side of the football field, and waved to me.

_Finally! I'm parched, Edward, let's go!_

I grinned and waved back. "I'm ready, and I promise that I smell decent," I murmured quietly. She laughed and began walking toward me.

We linked arms and headed out to my car. She leaned in a took a whiff._ Very nice, Edward. Thank you._

"Anything for my big sister," I said gallantly as I patted her hand.

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When Esme and I hunted alone together, we always swam up into Ontario. There were several large provincial parks not far from the lakes, and Algonquin was Esme's favorite due to the overabundance of wolves.

I loved hunting with Esme. In her first few months, she had been unusually ravenous, and Carlisle and I had been hard pressed to keep her satisfied. She was quite the savage hunter back then, I remembered with a smile. Carlisle had been amused that someone so sweet and gentle could be such a bloodthirsty predator.

She had calmed down, of course, as the years went on. She was hunting wolf today, as usual – her favorite. I wasn't terribly thirsty, and had agreed to accompany her today just so that she wouldn't have to wait any longer. Ever since her accidental human kill back in 1929, she refused to hunt alone again and one or both of us always escorted her.

I watched her fondly as she found a trail, and lagged behind just a bit so she could take down her kill in private. Despite, or perhaps because of her newborn ferocity, Esme was still a little self-conscious about the moment she entered the hunting frenzy. As soon as I heard her prey take its last breath, I sped up and joined her, killing the wolf's mate with a single sweep of my hand. We drank in silence, and then leaned back on our elbows to watch the stars come out.

It was a new moon, and to our immortal eyes, the woods were sparkling in the starlight that peeked through the treetops. A million bright dots covered the forest floor, as well as our bodies. As the night breeze shifted the foliage above us, the dots blew about in a wild dance. I glanced over at my mother, pleased to see her smile of contentment as she watched the sky. She was thinking how blessed she was to be a part of our family, and to be able to enjoy sights like this with us forever.

I couldn't imagine my life without Esme in it. What would be the point of going to school each day, if her smile and questions didn't greet me when I returned home? What would be the point of keeping myself presentable, if she wasn't there to fuss over me? What would be the point of being _good_, if not to live up to her love?

"We should bring Carlisle here sometime, Edward," Esme said, her eyes closing as she breathed in the tangy air of the pines around us.

"Yes, I think he would like this place."

"Let's invite him next week, then."

"All right."

She opened her eyes again, looking straight up. _I can't wait for him to see this clearing. He's going to love how the treetops come together, just there… it's like a window into Heaven._

I stayed silent as her mind drifted lovingly toward her husband. Her thoughts had a way of shimmering when she thought of him, and it always brought a smile to my face. I felt a rare pang of envy. Would I ever sit in the forest like this, not with my mother, but with my wife? Would I come back to this clearing someday, and watch the starlight dance on the arm of one I could call my beloved?

Esme suddenly sat up, grinning. "I smell another one," she excitedly, touching her throat in anticipation.

"You go ahead- I'll wait here."

She nodded and left me. I laid down fully on my back, crossing my wrists behind my head and looking up at the "window into Heaven", as Esme had called it. As she ran farther away in pursuit of the wolf she had found, her thoughts faded from my mind and I was fully alone with the sounds of the night.

I began humming to myself, and a melody began to form. It was a ballad in E major, and as I played with the tune, I decided that it was for the woman I hoped to bring here someday. I would sing it to her, and only her- and not until we came here. And if I never met her? Then it would remain unsung forever, I decided. The ballad wasn't too long, and the end surprised me as the last measure drifted up a half step. It was a hopeful ending, appropriate for an eternal love. I nodded in satisfaction, and began to sing it through again. I only had time to repeat the song twice before I heard Esme coming.

_You should have seen that one, Edward! She was a fighter. I don't know what you see in those lazy mountain lions, anyway._

I laughed aloud. Esme and I had an ongoing debate about our favorite prey; she always praised the passion of the wolves and I was always trying to convince her of the fluid beauty of the lions. The tastes were quite different too, but that wasn't as much fun to argue about.

I jerked my shoulders forward, landing on my feet and brushing the dirt off my slacks. "The dogs need to be passionate. They're so slow, they have to keep themselves awake _somehow_."

"Hm! Race to the lake?"

"You got it." I bent down to touch my left knee; the rule was that I had to keep my hand there the whole time. This was my handicap to make the race fair. We had timed ourselves one day, experimenting with different handicaps until we found that this one gave us the exact same top speed. When I raced Carlisle, I only had to keep my hand halfway down my thigh.

We took off, and I plunged into the water one sixteenth of a second behind Esme, her mind squealing in victory.

.

.

.

It was three in the morning by the time we reached the city limits of Rochester. Esme's dress was refusing to dry, and she was wringing out the hemline again, still chattering about the race. I ducked into the alley where I had hidden our coats and hats, tossing Esme's to her. We wrapped up and headed into the streets, bowing our heads against the cold wind and holding the collars of our coats tight to our chins in imitation of the few humans we came across. A light coating of snow had fallen sometime during the night, and it was peaceful.

When we were within a mile of the house, I casually reached out with my gift to see what Carlisle was up to. I froze in my tracks, holding my hand out to halt Esme as well.

"What's-"

"Ssh."

Carlisle was kneeling by the blue couch- the one we had brought from Montana- staring at a woman lying there, her face turned away from my view. The couch was streaked with brown. Her hair was matted with dried blood, but her skin was clean, though her dress was a rumpled mess of blood and torn fabric. Carlisle was holding her hand, promising her that it would be all right, that the burn would-

I gasped aloud and crushed Esme's hand in mine when I realized what was going on. Esme was obviously saying something to me, but I couldn't hear her. I was entranced by Carlisle's thoughts.

_How am I going to explain this to Esme? Edward will understand, but Esme… she's either going to be thrilled, or horrified. I wish they would hurry up and get home! I need to call into work, but I can't leave her for a second, not now._

All at once the frozen picture I had been seeing through his eyes began moving, and I saw now that the woman was moaning in pain, tossing her head back and forth as she wept. Carlisle looked down at their joined hands again, and I saw that her skin was still rather pink, though her fingernails were still dirty. As I watched, I could see a slight decrease in the pigment around her fingertips; but now Carlisle was looking up again, and the woman turned to face him.

It was Rosalie Hale.

Carlisle had Rosalie Hale in our living room, and he had bitten her.

He had _bitten_ her!

"Edward!" Esme hissed, and I snapped out of it, turning in slow motion to face her. I supposed she had been yelling at me for some time.

"Carlisle has bitten someone," I said flatly. How else would I say it?

"He's _what_?!"

"He's got her on the couch. She's already in transition." I turned my attention back to the house, listening for a second mind, but there was nothing except for Carlisle's fretting.

"Well, why are we standing here? Let's go see."

"Hold on, Esme," I said in a warning tone. "There's a lot of blood in there. I should go first and-"

Esme threw my hand off of her arm and took off toward the house. _Carlisle needs me. What could have possibly happened to make him do this?_

I caught up with her quickly, and the house came into view. The front door was hanging open, a smear of hours-old blood across it. Esme paused and sniffed experimentally.

"It's all right, it's quite old," she said in relief.

Carlisle's voice rang out frantically. "Esme, thank God! Come in here! Is Edward there too?"

We entered the living room together, and Esme rushed to kneel beside Carlisle. I stood back a few steps, listening as Carlisle raced through the explanation of how he had found her, lying near death on the sidewalk in a cold pool of her own blood. When he explained the nature of her injuries, both Esme and I growled in anger.

"I- I just couldn't leave there to die," he said uncertainly when his account was finished. "Esme, do you have anything that might fit her? I didn't want… after what she's been through, I don't think I should… could you?"

"Of course."

She flew up the stairs, arriving back in five seconds with a red cocktail dress in her hands. I arched an eyebrow in question, and she shrugged. "I should wash her hair, and that way if any blood…" I nodded in understanding.

She shooed us out of the room, promising to call us when she had finished her work.

Carlisle and I headed out the front door, and he grimaced when he saw the blood on it. He nodded toward the garden hose, and I tossed the nozzle up to him, reaching back down to turn it on.

Carlisle's thoughts were a nervous tangle as he blasted the door with the water, reaching up to scrape away the top surface of the paint. Finally he glanced back at me.

_Please, Edward. Tell me what she's thinking. I have to know._

I focused again on the living room, but only heard Esme. "There's nothing right now. The pain is just too intense – it was the same with Esme. Her mind was practically a void until the second day."

"No, not the girl! Esme. Is she… very upset with me?"

"No, she's just surprised. As am _I_, Carlisle."

Carlisle looked at me guiltily as he recognized the disapproval in my voice. "I was bringing her home to talk it over with you both. But I couldn't wait any longer."

"I don't understand. You see people die every day! Why _her_?"

Carlisle just looked away, troubled. He was thinking about what he could have tried to save her, to prevent this – none of it would have been enough, of course. He was running in detail through the procedures in his head, again and again. Why was he torturing himself like this? He knew it would have all been pointless.

"I'm finished," Esme murmured from the living room.

We walked back in to find the couch empty. Esme had dragged the guest bed out into the living room, and Rosalie was laid upon it in the red dress, her hair clean and brushed out, laying on the pillow like a halo. She lay like a statue, cold and perfect.

I focused my mind on hers, and could see just the faintest hints of coherence now. I wouldn't have called them thoughts- just flashes of flame, of horror. The volume was rising, though.

_The screaming is going to start soon_, I mouthed to Carlisle behind Esme's back. Did he really want her here for that part?

_I can't separate them now, Edward. Look at her._

Esme was seated on the bed beside Rosalie, leaning over her and stroking her hair gently. "I know, I know it hurts," she whispered. "I promise it won't last forever. You're safe now. No one is ever going to hurt you again."


	4. Kill Me

Rosalie was starting to squirm again, and her brow furrowed. It seemed wrong; her face was so angelic, so perfect that I wanted to reach down and smooth the wrinkle between her eyebrows.

I moved closer to the bed, reaching my arm out tentatively toward her face. She _was_ lovely. Perhaps-

I snatched my hand back as Rosalie's eyes snapped open suddenly, and the first scream tore out of her lips. She began thrashing, kicking off the coverlet. Esme seemed unfazed, and she kept one hand on Rosalie's shoulder even as the screaming grew louder. She made shushing sounds and began singing a lullaby, stopping now and then to whisper reassurance.

Rosalie's voice gave out by late morning, and as the venom worked to repair her brain damage, her thoughts began to coalesce. I began seeing a jumble of memories: some must have been from childhood, others from the day before. I saw Royce, and immediately after that, clear as day, I saw what had happened last night. I watched in horror as Rosalie's healing mind put together the fragments of the assault that she had received, and when I saw Royce's face among the group of men, I roared in anger.

"What?" Carlisle gasped. He was sitting on the opposite side of the bed, and he had now spun around to stare at the hate in my face.

"It was Royce King," I choked out. "He did this to her."

Carlisle frowned. "Her fiancé?"

I nodded.

"That can't be right. I smelled at least five different scents of… of men on her."

"He wasn't alone. Three of them were friends, and the fifth one was from out of town." It must have been John – the one whose arrival Percy had been looking forward to. So _this_ was what the group had decided to do for Royce's impromptu bachelor party.

"I don't believe it," Esme whispered. "How could anyone..." Her lips set in a firm line, and I winced as a memory of her human husband flitted across her mind. She _did_ understand, unfortunately.

Rosalie's moan brought the three of us out of our discussion. She was trembling from the pain, but too weak to move her limbs anymore. Most of her wounds had already healed, but she had exhausted herself- her strength wouldn't begin growing for a few more hours. Her eyes opened again- they were an odd purple color, halfway changed- and she looked around, finding Carlisle's face first.

_It's him. He's the one that did this, he must have been with them. Why did he bring me here to do it? Why didn't he just- oh, why couldn't he just leave me alone? It hurts, it HURTS!_

"Carlisle found you," I said gently. "He's a doctor, and he saved you. You need to rest, now."

Her eyes slowly drifted over to me now, and then over to Esme. _I know them. I know them from somewhere… Too beautiful…_

She opened her mouth and finally spoke, her voice sluggish. "Please… just kill me, please," she whispered hoarsely.

Carlisle reached for her hand. "Rosalie, when I found you, I tried everything I could do save you. Please understand, there was nothing I could do."

Rosalie turned her head back to face him as he spoke. Her memories matched his own, and I watched Carlisle as he inspected her wounds, tried to stop the bleeding. But most of it had been internal, and the damage was too severe. From what Rosalie had shown me, I knew that her skull had been fractured badly when the first man had thrown her against the lamppost. At least one man had stepped down on her abdomen. What kind of monsters...

A sick feeling suddenly twisted in my gut. I had _known_ what kind of man Royce was. I had known, even before he had ever acted on it. I had just been thinking last week that how if I had met him just a couple of years ago, he was exactly the kind of monster I would have hunted down. Even if he hadn't actually committed an atrocity yet, I would have followed him, especially if I was thirsty that day. I would have followed him, and I would have eventually found enough evidence to condemn him. He would have been judged, and the world could have been free of him. Rosalie would have been safe…

Carlisle's gentle voice interrupted my thoughts. "But I wanted to save you, Rosalie. So I bought you home and I made you like us." He looked up at Esme and smiled. "We're vampires, and you'll be like us when you wake up. We're not monsters, like people think. You'll be so strong, and healthy- you'll see. No one will ever be able to hurt you again. Try to rest now."

Her eyes drifted shut again, and although her face was contorted in pain, she was silent. Carlisle looked up at me. _Did she understand?_

"At least the first part. She was already drifting by the time you started speaking again. Carlisle…"

But I was distracted by another memory Rosalie was showing me. The men were leaving her now, laughing as they went.

"Well, Royce, we'll just have to find you a new bride somewhere," slurred Percy as he clapped Royce on the back.

Royce laughed, a shrill, ugly sound. "Give me a while, fellas. I think I might have to learn some patience first!" He took a final swig from a dark bottle, and tossed it over his shoulder. It smashed into the sidewalk just beside where Rosalie was lying, sending a spray of gin and broken glass into the right side of her face. They didn't even look back. Rosalie's memory began replaying the whole thing again and again, as her healing brain processed her fate with horror.

I closed my eyes, wishing I could stop watching so easily. I had spent four years hunting men like Royce King- listening for minds like his, haunting crime scenes like this. And I knew all too well that these things happened all the time, though I tried my hardest not to hear them, for the very reason that I would want to get involved... in the way I had been involved before. It was the one thing that Carlisle demanded of me upon my reassimilation into human life, and he had been right to do so.

But this, I could not tolerate. It was bad enough that I had _let_ it happen, knowing what I had known about Royce. But to stand here in my own living room, to watch it happen in her memory, right before my eyes... No. _No._

"Carlisle…" I said again, louder this time.

"What's wrong, son?"

"I'm going out for a while." My voice was flat, cold.

"Right _now_?"

"I won't be long." I turned to go- this couldn't wait. It was Saturday; Royce would probably still be at home, sleeping it off. I slammed the front door behind me, my hands shaking with anger. I wasn't planning on taking the car. I was just entering the woods as Carlisle appeared in front of me, his hands on my chest.

"Stop it right there. I know what you're doing, and it's not going to happen."

I looked slowly down at his hands, and then back up at his face. "Take your hands off me," I whispered.

"Edward, you're not that person anymore! You left that life behind you!"

I stepped back, and he let his arms drop at his sides. "You don't know what they did to her," I hissed. "You don't know what they said when they were done. They were already talking about the next one. These are the kind of men who shouldn't be permitted to live, Carlisle, and you _know_ it! I _told_ you before what kind of a man Royce King was! If you had just let me take care of it-"

"I don't care about them. I care about _you_! If you do this…"

I flinched at the memory he showed me. It was the day I had returned to them, and Carlisle and Esme were kneeling on the floor beside me as I wept, almost destroyed by my guilt.

"I'm not going to kill them," I decided out loud. I would try not to, at least. He was right about one thing– I _didn't_ want to go there again. I had no wish to add another five faces to the crowd of my accusers that had driven me to repentance. Who _still_ haunted me, when I wasn't keeping myself busy enough.

Carlisle blinked. "Good. Come back into the house, then."

I shook my head, inching toward the woods again. "No. They can't be allowed to get away with this. They _can't."_

Carlisle gripped my left shoulder, trying to turn me back toward the house. But I knew what was waiting for me back there: Rosalie's painful, garbled memories. I could still see them now, could still hear their drunken laughter in her mind. I was still shaking with anger at the atrocity that Royce and his friends had committed. That I had _allowed_ them to commit. I shook my head again, pushing harder against Carlisle's stone grip.

"Back in the house," he said firmly. "We'll talk about this later. For now, though, we need to-"

I shoved him as hard as I could, sending him into the trees. By the time he hit the ground, I was already long gone, running at my top speed toward the city.

No, I wouldn't kill them.

But when I was done, they were going to wish that I had.


	5. Interlude

**A/N: This chapter contains direct quotes from Eclipse, Chapter 7. It all belongs to Stephenie Meyer!**

* * *

><p>I searched for hours. Royce's home, the other homes, the bars... nothing. I eventually found the corner where Rosalie had been attacked, but it had been raining hard. There was a weak trace of Carlisle's scent, but the human scents were washed out. Around nightfall, I doubled back to the King mansion, hiding behind the huge garage. I stood listening to his parents' thoughts and conversation for at least an hour, hoping for a hint of his whereabouts. But they were useless, and I kicked the side of the garage in frustration, sending a cloud of bricks and mortar into the air around me.<p>

I had to make a decision. I could go home now. Carlisle and Esme would need me as Rosalie got stronger, and I might be able to use my gift to help her transition. Carlisle would be angry after my display last night... but he would also be distracted with Rosalie. And he would forgive me, especially since I hadn't actually _done_ anything. Not for a lack of trying, though.

Or I could stay here. If I waited long enough, Royce would come home from whatever joy ride his friends had taken him on. They could be anywhere now, and I gathered from Mr. and Mrs. King that these weekend disappearances were quite common. It might be early Monday morning by the time Royce returned, and Carlisle and Esme would be frantic with worry, wondering what I had done…

My decision was made, then. The hours had cooled my rage somewhat, and I knew that my parents didn't need to be worrying about me on top of taking care of Rosalie. I really was putting them in an awkward position, and they didn't deserve it. I could always come back another day; in fact, now that I thought about it, that might be best. Rosalie's disappearance would be all over the newspapers, due to her connection with the King family. Yes, it was better to wait.

.

.

.

I could hear the screaming when I was still two miles out. It was a good thing the rain had turned into a full-fledged thunderstorm- it helped cover the sound, and ensured that no hikers would be out this weekend. I opened the front door to find a tumultuous scene. Rosalie was still in the bed, but she was fighting hard now. Carlisle was holding her feet down while Esme held one of her hands, still singing softly despite the screaming. Rosalie was quite pale now, and much stronger than she had been when I left around noon. Her eyes were scrunched shut as she screamed, and with her free hand, she was alternating between hitting Esme and tearing at the mattress. One look at the twisted metal on that side of the bed frame told me where I was needed.

I rushed over and grabbed her hand, surprised at how strong she already was. It took both my arms to hold down one of hers, and even then it was difficult.

"No, don't restrain her, Edward," Carlisle ordered. "It only agitates her more. Just hold her still enough so she can't hit Esme or destroy the bed." I nodded and gave way a bit. Rosalie's hand finally relaxed into mine, and I began stroking it gently. Carlisle murmured to Esme, and they switched places so that he was holding Rosalie's other hand, his face only inches from mine. As he moved, I noticed a tear in the shoulder of his shirt that wasn't there earlier; it must have happened when I shoved him into the trees last night.

_Show me your eyes. NOW._

I looked up and let him see; he sighed in relief. _You didn't kill them? Please, tell me you didn't kill them._

"I said I wasn't going to, didn't I?"

I hadn't intended for it to come out so disrespectfully. I had intended to apologize the second I came in the door, but Rosalie's screaming had distracted me. It was a horrible, screeching sound that was hurting my ears.

Esme looked up at us from the foot of the bed. "Wasn't going to what?"

Carlisle shook his head, and glared back up at me. _We're going to discuss this later._ I nodded, and fortunately, Rosalie chose that moment to kick as hard as she could. Esme tumbled to the floor, sufficiently distracted.

_Now_ I felt bad. They had been here, struggling with Rosalie and worrying, while I had been out on my fruitless quest. "I'm sorry about… earlier," I murmured quietly, so only Carlisle would hear.

_I said we'll talk about it later. I told Esme you needed some fresh air. This is hard enough on her, and I don't need you adding anything to her burden. Is that understood?_

I nodded again, and Carlisle turned his attention back to Rosalie.

Esme seemed to have given up on holding the girl's feet, and she moved back up to where I was standing. I passed Rosalie's hand to her and she kissed it gently.

"It'll be over soon, I promise," she said. "Just a little longer." She starting singing again, and Rosalie finally quieted, her arms and legs tense but still, for now. Her breath was coming in quick, short gasps.

The night was awful. Rosalie would be quiet for a while, only to launch into another fit of screaming and thrashing, followed by a round of moaning and racing, fragmented thoughts. Every now and then she would beg for us to kill her, and Carlisle would explain again what was happening to her. When the screaming would start again, he would just hold her hand, apologizing over and over.

Around seven in the morning on Monday, the bouts of screaming finally ended. Rosalie's arms and legs gradually stopped trembling, and Esme covered her back up, brushing out her hair again. She looked quite dead now; she had stopped breathing sometime during the night, and her body was now limp as her heart began to pick up its pace.

The venom had almost completed its task, and the outermost changes were taking place now. Rosalie was completely paralyzed in the final stages of transformation, and her features had finally relaxed. She grew more beautiful every hour, and Esme's mind was singing. _A daughter. I'm going to have a daughter! I've never seen someone so beautiful in my entire life!_

I had to agree. Even Tanya paled in comparison now, and that was saying a lot. I was frozen where I stood, watching in awe as the miniscule changes as they took place. It was like seeing a master sculptor at work, except the artist was invisible. She was so beautiful it _hurt_ to look at her. If it wasn't for the fact that I had already had a thoroughly disappointing glimpse into her mind, I might actually be impressed.

It was a shame, really. She was _gorgeous_.

Esme noticed my silent admiration. _Amazing, isn't she Edward? I wonder how you two will get along… _She was picturing Rosalie awake, standing in front of me and her hands were in mine. She looked up at me, her crimson eyes sparkling as she stood up taller, meeting my kiss halfway.

"You must be joking," I said rudely.

Esme shrugged. _I suppose I'm getting ahead of myself. Let's take this one day at a time._

Carlisle looked between the two of us apprehensively. _Now what?_

I just shook my head, sighing. Carlisle was still angry with me, and Esme was entertaining herself with fantasies about me falling in love with Rosalie _Hale_. We were about to have a newborn on our hands, and I was missing my Biochemistry exam right now. I had finally gotten to a place in my life where I was content, and now…

As if on cue, Carlisle stood up, laying Rosalie's hand down on the mattress. He walked over to Esme's side, and kissed her on the cheek. "The worst is over, dear. If you don't mind watching her for a while, Edward and I are going outside to have a little chat." Esme nodded absently, never taking her eyes off Rosalie's angelic face.

Carlisle headed out the front door, and I followed silently. We didn't go far; he was concerned about leaving Esme alone and wanted to be able to reach her quickly if something went wrong with Rosalie. He paused just under the edge of the forest, and turned to face me.

"I'm trying to understand your behavior last night," he said sternly. "But I find myself at a loss. Surely I don't need to tell you how disappointed I am." I could tell he wasn't finished, so I just nodded, keeping my eyes down.

"It was bad enough that you decided to run off during one of the most difficult times our family has ever had," he continued. "That was just inconsiderate. But your _purpose-_ Edward, I thought we understood one another! I thought you were past this vigilante nonsense! What do you have to say for yourself?"

I forced my hands to relax. Carlisle had every right to be angry, even if I was justified in my vengeance. I had sworn I would never return to that life, and I had totally disregarded that vow last night. Although I hadn't even given a thought to drinking the blood of Rosalie's tormentors, I _had_ run out of the house with every intention of killing them. It wasn't until Carlisle hit me with the memory from 1931 that I had decided to simply maim them. Which I _still_ had every intention of doing, when the time was right. But first, I had to get out of this.

"I was upset. I could see everything in her memory. _Everything_, Carlisle! All I could think about was giving those men what they deserved. If you had seen what I saw-"

"Then I _still_ wouldn't have gone off in a murderous rage," he said confidently. "In my line of work, I see a lot of people who have been hurt by others. Of course it makes me angry, and sometimes I feel that I would like to avenge some of the misdeeds I have had to stitch up. But that doesn't mean I _act_ on those desires. If I wanted to, I could spend all my time following police cars, helping apprehend criminals or fighting them myself. But I don't, because I have chosen a different path. I have chosen to heal."

"_I _seem to remember a time when you almost went off in a murderous rage," I said brusquely.

It was the wrong thing to say. Carlisle's eyes darkened and he took a step toward me. "That was a _completely_ different situation," he said through his teeth. "For one thing, I _didn't_ go out and kill him, because your mother asked me not to. If I had been in a 'rage', as you call it, I wouldn't have listened to her. Much like _you _didn't listen to _me_ yesterday. But I would have been justified, if I had. Esme is my mate, and vengeance was my prerogative in that instance."

"Using that same logic, if we consider that Rosalie is your creation, and my sister, as it were-"

He held up his hand, demanding my silence. "Furthermore, you and I are different people. I am able to keep my head about me under duress, which is a skill _you_ appear to have forgotten. Not only that, but your control around human blood is nowhere near as strong as mine. It's only been two years since you tasted it. Put those facts together with your obsessive nature and you are _last_ person who should ever be heading out alone on a mission of vengeance! Now you are going to tell me _exactly_ what you did last night to those men!"

I was quivering with anger and shame by the time he finished. Everything he was saying about me was true, and it was _infuriating._ Of _course_ I would never be like Carlisle! I would never have his compassion, his endless patience. I would never have the self-control or the balanced calm, and I was probably never going to have a mate to keep me grounded. I was never going to be as _human_ as him. Even if I hadn't intended on killing last night, I would probably have lost control once I started spilling blood, or once I could hear Royce's disgusting thoughts again. I was beginning to rethink my plan to hunt him down. It suddenly occurred to me that I might be sitting next to him in class again on Wednesday. _That_ wasn't going to work! Perhaps I should-

"Answer me!" Carlisle demanded.

I jerked back into the present, to find his face inches from mine, his eyes almost black. I stepped backwards, holding my hands up in defense. "I didn't even find them. I tried, but they weren't anywhere in the city. I really wasn't going to kill them, I swear." _Not after the first two minutes, anyway._

"Then what were you going to do?" Carlisle asked warily.

I could feel my own eyes darkening now. "Make sure they would never be able to do what they did to Rosalie… ever again." He stared at me, knowing there was more. "And I was going to break all their arms and legs, too. Possibly some fingers. That's all," I finished lamely.

"And you really couldn't find them?"

"No."

He sighed, and his eyes began to lighten again. "Thank God."

"Carlisle, they're still out there. They're going to do it again to someone, someday, if something isn't done."

"You say that as if this isn't over."

"It's _not_ over," I hissed, unable to stop the words in time.

"It is for you." He stood up taller and set his jaw. "Edward, my concern for you is that of a father. This isn't healthy for you, especially considering your past. You know that your mother and I have forgiven the mistake that you made, and we're very proud of your renewed commitment. You are my son, and you always will be, no matter what. But as the leader of this coven, I am _ordering_ you to be done with this. I understand you feel a responsibility to avenge Rosalie. But this is me relieving you of that responsibility. You are not to approach those men, ever. You said you wanted to be a part of this family again, and that means respecting my authority. You _will_ obey me in this. Do you understand?"

I ground my teeth. I understood perfectly. "Yes, sir."

"Good. That settles that. Now, as to the matter of your behavior toward _me_ yesterday. As your father, I am astonished, and hurt, that you would even think of laying a hand on me like that, and defy me so openly. We're family, Edward. But we're a coven of vampires as well, and it is all too easy to our volatile natures to escalate to violence if we allow them freedom in that manner. What you did to me was dangerous, and absolutely forbidden; you've known that all along. As your leader, I cannot allow you to indulge your instincts in a way that threatens any member of our coven... our family. I think you can understand the need for consequences."

I swallowed hard, nodding my agreement. Was he going to pull me out of school?

But to Carlisle's stern expression was already dissolving, and his mouth twitched up at the corner. _How does one punish a thirty-one-year-old teenager? _ He forced the smile away and cleared his throat. "Firstly, you are going to be the one to explain your absence yesterday to your mother. Not today, of course. We have bigger problems to deal with. But when the time is right, I want you to give Esme the apology and explanation she deserves."

I nodded, waiting for the rest.

"You will do no reading for the next two months, aside from your coursework," he decided. I let out my breath in relief; this wasn't so bad. I could catch up on my journaling…

"And no journaling during that time, either. This is the sort of situation that you tend to over-examine, and I want you to put this lapse behind you. I say lapse, because in the past two years you have shown enormous progress and maintained your control. I'm going to assume that this little incident won't be repeating itself."

"It won't," I agreed without hesitation. "You have my word."

"Good. You can use your free time to help your mother keep an eye on Rosalie while I'm at work." _I can't keep using this sick aunt excuse forever… I'll need to go back by the end of the week. Really, Edward, I hope you see how easily you're getting out of this. You probably wouldn't have had much time for reading or journaling anyway, what with a newborn in the house._ _ I was going to take away your piano time, but your music might be important in keeping Rosalie calm. I should probably add something that will actually inconvenience you, so you can be reminded of your foolishness. What do human fathers do? Ah! I know. _

He crossed his arms, a devilish smile on his face. "And lastly, you are grounded from driving during those two months as well."

I stared at him in surprise. I hadn't been expecting _that_. "How am I supposed to get to school? You're always saying that we have to keep up appearances."

He shrugged. "Catch a bus, or walk. And I mean _walk_."

I couldn't help but be impressed. He had found the one punishment that would really annoy me: taking away my speed. But I was still getting off easy, and I knew it. I hadn't actually met any other vampires, other than our cousins and the Volturi guards that had visited our home. But I could only imagine how most coven leaders would respond to a physical assault. Carlisle was right; that had been a dangerous move, and now I saw how much it had hurt him. "I understand," I said politely. "And Carlisle, I truly am sorry about... what I did to you. That was wrong."

He nodded firmly. "Thank you. And you're forgiven, of course." He took a deep breath, considering how to say the next bit. "You don't know how worried I was all night, wondering what you were doing." _Wondering what you were becoming- if you had so easily returned to that life. I can see now that your commitment hadn't wavered after all. But for those few terrible hours __I thought... I thought I had lost you again. __Don't ever do that to me again, Edward, PLEASE. Don't do that to Esme again._

I closed my eyes in true shame now, my anger gone. He hadn't been worried about my targets' fate at all; he had been worried about _me._ I couldn't bring myself to tell him the full truth: that I _had_ been planning to kill them, until his memory had stopped me. I truly hadn't thought about drinking their blood, but he was right; it would have happened. I felt his hand on my shoulder, and I opened my eyes to look at the ground.

"This is over," he said gently. "Don't drown in it. Learn from it, and move on. We'll have a newborn soon, and I'm going to need your help." I nodded, lifting my eyes to meet his. I had spent enough time this weekend thinking about myself; it was time to act like a part of the family that I loved.

Carlisle grasped my shoulder before letting go. We started walking back toward the house. "What has Rosalie been thinking about all morning?" he asked me.

"Mostly about wanting to die. The pain is finally decreasing, but she's noticed the increased heart rate, and the loss of motor control. She figures this is it, and she's glad."

He frowned. "But I explained everything to her. Didn't she hear me?"

"She heard, at least the last few times. But can you blame her for not believing it yet?"

We walked in the front door, and Esme turned to face us, wondering what we had been speaking about. I dodged her gaze, looking pointedly toward Rosalie, distracting her sufficiently. "Her heart's getting faster," she said aloud.

Carlisle went over to examine Rosalie, feeling her skin temperature and hardness, the pulse in her chest and noting the lack of circulation in her limbs. "She'll wake up sometime tonight," he announced.

"Thank God," breathed Esme.

I looked at the girl again. She looked so peaceful, and even her mind was peaceful, accepting. She had been through so much, and all she wanted was to disappear. I couldn't blame her, really. Not that I blamed Carlisle either- it was his right to add to his coven, although none of us had anticipated such a move. I disapproved of the idea of changing anyone at all, but that was a matter of my own opinion. Still, couldn't he have decided to save someone a little less popular? Someone a little less likely to make headlines upon her disappearance?

"What were you thinking, Carlisle? Rosalie Hale?" I felt brave enough to ask him again, now that I was back in his good graces. He had never really answered me before.

"I couldn't just let her die," he said quietly. _Edward, you know I'm not one to care about external appearances. And I know she probably wasn't the safest choice. But when I saw her lying there, and I realized what they had done to her… It was just so wrong. Her beauty-_ He thought for a moment, choosing his mental words carefully. I knew he wasn't being unfaithful to Esme, but he was trying to find the right words for the awe he had felt when he had seen her. He was controlling his thoughts in a way I hadn't seen in a while; I supposed he didn't want to give the wrong impression of his admiration for a woman not his wife.

"It was too much waste. I couldn't leave her," he whispered finally. _You know I have eyes only for Esme. But, seeing her there, just dying on a cold, dirty sidewalk, and her looking like a fallen angel… I mean, have you LOOKED at her?_

"I know," I said dismissively.

"Of course you couldn't," Esme agreed, answering his earlier comment. _That's why I love you, Carlisle Cullen._

I rolled my eyes. Maybe I should have told Carlisle about my earlier interactions with Rosalie's mind. He might not have seen her beauty quit the same way, if I had… but there was no going back now.

"People die all the time," I said harshly. "Don't you think she's just a little recognizable, though? The Kings will have to put up a huge search- not that anyone suspects the fiend." I spat the final word like a curse.

Rosalie had obviously heard me, because her heart began racing even faster, and her thoughts were practically screaming._ He knows! How could they possibly know? I'm positive they weren't with Royce's friends, and if they wanted to hurt me they would have done it by now. At least someone knows the truth. Not that it can help me now, but maybe someday he can be brought to justice._

I couldn't read emotions, but it was easy to see how she felt. She had been afraid that no one would ever believe her, and she was immensely relieved. She was picturing us going to the police after we had buried her, and Royce King behind bars.

Of course, if I had been able to find him yesterday, he would probably be dead now. Instead, he was free, and he would probably remain that way. The idea stirred up my rage, just briefly, but I put it aside. Carlisle had asked me to let it go, and if I had learned anything in the last fifteen years, it was that he knew best. I had forgotten that fact last night, and look where it had gotten me. I had just _completely_ destroyed any of the faith that Carlisle had managed to regain in me. And I hadn't even accomplished my goal. I would keep my word, though, even if it meant living a monster like Royce King live.

But Royce's fate aside, our lives had just changed forever. Would Rosalie choose to stay with us? Would we be able to keep her away from the nearby hikers? This house wasn't nearly as isolated as our previous ones had been- Carlisle had chosen this property back when he was alone, and he had no need for seclusion at the time. The only reason we were this isolated was the convenience for hunting in the nearby forest, and because of my need to have space from the minds of our neighbors. Would we have to move now? The thought made me angry at Rosalie, for her imposition. I was really enjoying my schooling, and even if I could transfer my credits to another school, we were right in the middle of the semester. I knew that it wasn't really Rosalie's fault, but my own shame, combined with the revulsion I already felt for her mind, made her a convenient scapegoat.

"What are we going to do with her?" I asked, annoyed.

Carlisle sighed. _Edward, please don't be rude. You know she can hear us. _"That's up to her, of course," he said aloud for Esme's benefit. "She may want to go her own way."

_I hope not_, thought Esme. _I hope she decides to stay with us, and to be like us. _She was picturing dressing up Rosalie like a doll, curling her hair and teaching her how to sketch. The images shifted, and I was holding Rosalie in my arms again, my eyes softened with love. It seemed Esme was picking up where she had left off this morning- playing matchmaker. I sighed, loud enough for her to hear. She just smiled back at me.

Poor Esme. She was in for a rude awakening in regards to the type of daughter she seemed to think she was getting.

But then I remembered what she had said earlier today. Take it one day at a time. Rosalie had suffered a lot of trauma this weekend, and her existence was about to change dramatically. I supposed I should reserve judgment. It was possible that Rosalie's new life would give her some perspective, some maturity. In that case, would it be so wrong to be open to the possibility of...

Now _I _was the one getting ahead of myself. I shook my head to clear the images. One day at a time.

There was no more conversation. The three of us stood immobile well into the night, watching and listening as Rosalie's heart pounded frantically, the sound echoing through the whole house.

Finally, around two in the morning, the final _thud_ sounded, and Carlisle gently pulled Esme off to the side, behind him slightly. _Edward, be ready in case she attacks. You catch her by the legs and I'll get the upper body… but only if she attacks, all right?_

I nodded slightly. Rosalie's mind was racing now in terror, as she waited for death. She was confused at the lack of pain, and a finger on her left hand twitched.

She gasped as her eyes fluttered open, and she leapt out of the bed, landing in a terrified crouch against the far wall.

* * *

><p><strong>You've probably guessed by now that Edward is not getting the whole picture in terms of Carlisle's love and forgiveness. (just as he had doubts about Carlisle's pride back in Chapter 2) One of the "themes" of this Series is that this family is far from perfect, despite their commitment to a human lifestyle, and their love for each other. Carlisle is not the best communicator, and Edward is simply refusing to believe, for now, that he can ever be truly forgiven for his rebellious years... and thus, he is unable to forgive himself. This "miscommunication" between father and son will be a recurrent theme coming to a head in the 1950 story, which will be the climax of the Series. (though I promise, the angst due to this miscommunication will not be constant!)<strong>


	6. Rude Awakening

Carlisle took a hesitant step toward Rosalie, holding his hands up peacefully. "It's all right, Miss Hale. You're safe now, and-"

She hissed at him. "You! You were there!"

"I found you after… after they had gone," he said gently. "Do you remember what I told you while you were resting? I'm a doctor, and I brought you here to make you better."

Rosalie's head whipped from side to side as she took in the sight of the three of us. _It's Dr. Cullen, and his family. They look different than before. He said he would make me like them… _She looked down at her arm, reaching to pinch the skin with her other hand. She looked over at me again, comparing my skin to hers. She ran her tongue along her teeth, hissing again at the changes she found there. She flinched at the inhuman sound coming out of her mouth, and glanced toward the doorway. I crouched ever so slightly, ready to pounce if she made a break for it.

"I wasn't able to save you using regular medicine," Carlisle continued. "The only way to save you was to change you… to make you like us. Do you remember what I said before? We're vampires, but we're not evil creatures like people think. At least, we can choose not to be. My name is Carlisle, and this is my wife Esme, and our son, Edward." He nodded to each of us in turn.

"I'm so glad you're feeling better," said Esme kindly.

Rosalie smiled shakily, nodding to Esme. "You're the one that… sang to me?" Esme nodded. "That was… nice. It helped. I was hurting…" She gasped and looked down at her body again, touching her scalp and the right side of her face. "How long have I been asleep?"

"Three days. That's how long it takes for the venom to work… it's sort of like medicine. It changes your body, healing the injuries and turning you into a vampire. You're immortal now, Miss Hale; you'll never be sick or hurt again." He took another tiny step toward her, but she noticed and backed up.

"No, something's wrong. I feel like I'm getting a cold… my throat hurts." She reached up to touch her neck, wincing as she focused on the pain. "Maybe if I could get something to drink…" She looked at Esme, thinking of lemonade, of water. Her eyes widened when she realized suddenly what it was that she wanted.

"Blood!" she gasped. "I want blood. Why?" Her breathing changed and she backed up further into the corner, holding her throat with both hands now.

"It's all right, dear, that's normal," Esme said in a soothing voice. "It's true that vampires drink blood – we don't eat or drink anything else. But our family chooses to drink animal blood. We don't want to hurt any humans."

"I don't either," Rosalie said quickly. "But how do you…" she was picturing the icebox in her kitchen, and I laughed out loud.

"No, not like that," I said. "We don't keep it in the house; we go hunting when we're thirsty."

Rosalie frowned at me, and Carlisle sighed, glancing at me in consternation. _I wasn't going to spring THAT on her right away._

"I can hear your thoughts," I said gently. "It's a little talent of mine. "

_What?! You can hear me right now? _I nodded, and she frowned again.

Carlisle took another step. "We'll explain everything, Miss Hale. But perhaps it might be best if we took you hunting first; you must be quite thirsty. There's a forest right-"

"No!" she cried, throwing herself backwards. She hit the wall finally, startling at the crashing sound. She looked down and saw the plaster falling from the crater she had just made. "I don't want to go hunting! I don't want to be a…. a vampire, and I don't want someone listening to me think! I'm going home! My mother must be frantic by now…" She took a deep breath, and let go of her throat. _Get a hold of yourself! _"Listen… I'm sorry. I'm very grateful for your help. But I just want to go home now. I'm feeling much better, and if one of you could be so kind as to take me back home, I'm sure my parents will gladly pay for your services."

"Miss Hale… may I call you Rosalie? I know this is all very disturbing, but please try to understand. You can't go home. You're very thirsty, and you would accidentally hurt your family. And they would notice how different you are now."

Rosalie launched herself toward the front door, and I met her halfway. I caught her around the waist, and when she spun angrily, teeth bared, I leaned my face away and held her at arm's length until Carlisle reached us. He grabbed her flailing hands and held them still.

"I know, I know it's a lot to take in, I'm sorry," he said as he dodged her snapping teeth. "Please, Rosalie, you must believe me when I say this is the only way-"

"Let go of me!" she screamed, and with one huge jerk she threw me off her back, wrenching her hands out of Carlisle's. She bolted out the door in a panic; thankfully, she was disoriented and didn't know which way to run. Her hesitation was long enough that the three of us were able to catch her again and subdue her. She fought us for another full minute, clawing, kicking and biting at all three of us, until she finally collapsed into our arms, sobbing. We lowered her to the ground, and Carlisle nodded to me, mentally asking me to release her. He kept an arm around her shoulders, and Esme held one of her hands, rubbing it gently.

_That was relatively easy_, Carlisle observed. _Her thirst isn't nearly as dominant as Esme's was. _I nodded thoughtfully. She was remarkably controlled, considering she was less than ten minutes old.

"It's all true, isn't it?" Rosalie whimpered. _I can't even cry. Why aren't there any tears?_

"Our bodies don't produce tears," I answered.

Her eyes rested on me. _He's even more beautiful than before. He's the most handsome man I've ever seen!_

"Thank you," I said, grinning.

She gasped, realizing that I was able to hear _everything_ she thought. "Stop that!" she snapped.

"Rosalie, let's take you hunting now," Esme said soothingly. "I promise you'll feel much better after you've had something to drink."

Rosalie touched her throat again. "All right," she whispered. "I'll try it. But after that, I'm going home."

She stood up, and Carlisle and Esme carefully took their hands away, ready to pounce if she decided to make another run for it. But she was brushing the dirt off of the dress, and feeling her hair. "I'd like to freshen up first," she said in a clearer voice. "I must look dreadful!" _I want to see what I look like. I wonder if my face is as pale as my arms, and what about my hair?_

"There's a mirror in the hall, just back there," I suggested.

"Thank you." She walked back into the house. We could all tell when she found the mirror, by the loud gasp she made. "Oh!"

We followed her back in, to find her spinning around in front of the mirror._ This is… this is amazing! I look AMAZING! _She smiled for the first time, spinning around slowly again, touching her face as she leaned in closer. _Ugh! The eyes! Well, at least they match the dress. My figure is even more perfect than before! And my cheeks! And my lips!_ She looked down at her legs, seeing the changes for the first time.

"Don't worry, your eyes will change color in a few months," I said as I walked up.

"Oh, good," she murmured absently as she peered even closer in the mirror. Then she inspected her fingernails, the ends of her hair, spinning around again to see the whole image in the mirror. _I'm more beautiful than all three of them! I'm much prettier than the woman, especially. I can't wait to hear what what's-his-name, Edward, has to say. _She patted her hair back into place, and turned back to me, smiling radiantly as she waited for my worship. _Well?_

I crossed my arms impatiently. "Well, what? Are you coming or not?"

Her smile faded as she realized how unaffected I was. She had expected me to swoon at the sight of her – as if I hadn't been seeing her for the last ten minutes. Ridiculous. Especially after her childish thoughts of superiority over Esme.

_It's clear the other one's married. But what's the matter with HIM?_

"Nothing's the matter with me," I said abruptly, and she frowned again.

"Stop _doing_ that," she growled.

"Is everything all right in there?" Esme called.

"Just perfect," Rosalie muttered as she brushed past me. "Let's go."

.

.

.

We found her a small herd of deer, and we stayed back while she attacked. She was unusually tidy for a newborn, and although she was disappointed by the taste, she was determined to satisfy her thirst without ruining her dress.

"She still thinks she's going home after this," I whispered to my parents as we watched her drinking her third buck.

"Poor dear," Esme sighed. "How can we help her understand?"

"We have another problem, too," Carlisle said softly. "The police are sure to be searching for her by now. I need to get back to the hospital tonight and see if I can find a convincing body in the morgue. If we let this remain a disappearance, the search will expand into the suburbs before long, and we may not be able to keep her quiet if they come up this way."

"Wait," I said. "You're staging her death already? When you changed me, you set it up so that I had survived."

"Unfortunately, this is a very different situation," he whispered. "First of all, your transformation happened during the Spanish Influenza. Things were very disorganized in Chicago at the time, and there were a lot of people dying and moving around. I doubt I could have removed you so successfully otherwise. But we also need to consider Rosalie's position in the city. Her family is very prominent, and her involvement with the Kings only makes her more visible. And I'm sure someone of Rosalie's position has often had portraits and even photographs taken. If we don't stage her death, the search and resulting publicity could go on for years- along with the circulation of those pictures."

"I suppose we should move, then." Esme asked.

Carlisle glanced at me. "I'd like to stay, at least until the summer, so that Edward can finish his term. It looks like Rosalie isn't going to be too wild – I think we can manage her until then, as long as we give the police a reason to stop looking."

I shook my head. "I appreciate that, Carlisle, but I don't mind moving if it's necessary."

_Thank you, son. That's very thoughtful. _"Well, I'll see what I can turn up at the morgue tonight, and we'll go from there." He looked up at the sky. "If we can get Rosalie back in the house, I think you two can manage while I make a quick trip."

"A quick trip for what?" Rosalie asked, appeared beside us suddenly. "Could you drop me off at home? I'm feeling better now."

"Rosalie," Carlisle said gently, "Please understand. Did you notice how uncontrolled you felt at the moment you spotted the deer? Did you notice how quickly your body rushed to attack?"

She nodded, embarrassed.

"Well, if you were to see your family – or any humans, for that matter- it would be the same way. It would be worse, in fact. You would completely lose your reason and kill them. You don't want to do that to your family, do you?"

Rosalie's hands clenched into fists at her sides. "No," she whispered. "I don't want to hurt anyone. I just want to be human again. Can't this be fixed somehow? Reversed?"

"No, sweetheart. This is how you'll be from now on," Esme said.

"And you'll never get any older," I added, thinking it would please her. After all, her appearance was a top priority.

"Never?" she asked incredulously.

"No. Our bodies are unable to change in any way," Carlisle answered.

"Well, except for having children. Didn't you say he was your son?" she asked, nodding to me.

"Not in that way. I changed him into a vampire, just like I changed you. I changed Esme as well, and we all look exactly as we did at that time. We're not able to have children, I'm afraid."

Rosalie just stared at him. _Not able to have children? But… that's not fair! That can't be right._

"But we do consider Edward our son," Carlisle said proudly. "And we live as a family. You'll be a part of our family, too, for as long as you wish you stay with us. After about a year, you'll be in control of your thirst enough to decide what you want to do. But until that time, I must ask that you remain with us. We'll teach you everything we know, and we'll keep you away from humans until the time is right."

"So, after a while, I could go home?" she asked hopefully.

"No, I'm afraid not," Carlisle said gently. "Your body is very different now, Rosalie. Your family would know that you had changed, and your lack of aging would become more obvious with every year. I'm sorry, but returning to your family would only endanger them, and raise questions that you won't be able to answer."

"Then I just won't answer them," she said stubbornly.

"We can talk about all this again sometime," Carlisle said carefully. "Your first hunt went very well. Are you still thirsty?"

"A little, but I want to go back to your house and change. My old clothes-"

Her breath caught as the memory finally caught up to her. She sank to the ground, her shoulders shaking as she relived her torment. The images were painfully clear, and I frowned. For her sake, I had been hoping that those memories would be more clouded.

Esme knelt beside her. "It's never going to happen again," she said firmly. "No one is ever going to hurt you again. You're very strong now, and we'll protect you."

Rosalie closed her eyes nodded, trying to slow down her breathing. "Can we go back now?" she asked weakly.

"Of course," said Esme, and we all began running. I stayed back a few steps, ready to pounce if Rosalie attempted to escape us. She was calmer, though, now that she had hunted, and didn't give us any trouble.

When we got back to the house, Esme took Rosalie upstairs to look through the clothes she had.

"I think it'll be fine for a while," Carlisle told me quietly. "She's quite calm, isn't she?"

"Yes. She's not even thinking about the thirst anymore." I was impressed, as well. "If you want to go, I think Esme and I will be able to handle anything that comes up."

"All right. But if she gets very thirsty, try to stay close to home." I nodded and he dashed back out the door.

I decided to stay downstairs while the women fussed over Rosalie's wardrobe. Esme seemed to have a calming effect on our newborn, and besides,_ I_ had no interest in what they were doing. I walked over to the bookshelf to find something to read, but then I remembered my punishment. I sighed and sat down at the piano. Rosalie seemed to be well in control of her emotions upstairs, but I decided on a nocturne, just to be safe. I kept a careful watch on her thoughts while I played; if there was a problem, I should be able to get up there in less than a second.

_This doesn't fit as well as the red one did. I wonder how vampires go shopping? These clothes just aren't going to work. She doesn't have nearly the figure that I do. Mmm, that music is nice. Oh! Perhaps the turquoise one would be all right…_

I gladly pulled out of her thoughts as she began trying on some of the clothes behind the open door of Esme's wardrobe. Rosalie's mind seemed to be just like before: completely self-absorbed and shallow. In fact, the only differences I had observed thus far was her tendency toward distraction, and her expanded intelligence. She hadn't even noticed the latter, and I doubted she would make much use of it, either.

"Edward!" called Esme. "Come upstairs and look!"

I sighed and walked up the stairs at human speed. Esme was excited about showing me the turquoise gown on Rosalie, along with the simple hairdo she had improvised. Rosalie was even more excited. She had decided that my earlier failure was due to her hair; she was embarrassed that I had seen her with it down, and now that she was "fixed", I was sure to react properly this time. It was almost comical, really; I had spent the last three days watching her. How was piling her hair on top of her head supposed to make any difference? I let out another sigh as I entered the room.

Rosalie was standing by the window, catching the sunlight as she turned to greet me. She had on the turquoise gown, which accented her figure even more than the red dress had. Her hair was swept up into a delicate twist, leaving her neck bare. With the added sparkle on her skin, she really was _stunning_. But she was smiling at me demurely, and that was what ruined the picture. Not the smile itself; the smile was perfect. It would probably make a human man cry, it was so beautiful. But the thoughts behind the smile were most unattractive. _Just like I thought;_ _he's a goner. He can't even speak! Not that anyone could blame him, of course. I suppose I'll have to let him down gently; it looks like I might be stuck here for a while. On the other hand, it could get rather dull if I ignored him completely; perhaps if I got to know him better... Ha! He still hasn't breathed since he saw me! Look at him!_

She had completely misinterpreted my hesitation! Her vanity seemed to be expanding by the second; I knew I had better say something.

"That looks nice," I said disinterestedly. "Esme, don't any of your shoes fit her?"

Rosalie glanced down at her bare feet angrily. _Of course he would see the one thing that wasn't ready. It's not my fault that I'm taller than her. He didn't even notice my hair! Is he BLIND?_

"Yes, the hair is nice, too," I yawned. "Well, I suppose she doesn't really _need_ shoes…" I bit back a smile as Rosalie clenched her teeth in anger. It was probably wrong of me to mock her vanity, but I couldn't help it. She was just so _ridiculous_, and the way she kept comparing herself to Esme was annoying.

"Every woman needs shoes," Esme huffed. _Really, Edward! Don't you think you could attempt to make her feel welcome?_

"I think you've got that covered, Esme. I'll be downstairs if you need me." I spun on my heel and sauntered out, leaving the women to their clothes.

"What's the matter with _him_?" Rosalie whispered to Esme.

"Don't mind him, dear. Now what about this one?" She held up a blouse, and I sighed loudly as I continued down the stairs, hoping Carlisle would hurry home. I was officially outnumbered.


	7. Adjustment

Carlisle had been gone for five hours, and I was beginning to get nervous. Esme and Rosalie had run out of clothes and had begun talking, Esme explaining the details of how we lived, and Rosalie asking questions. It had started out calmly at first. Esme had told her all of our stories – with parts edited out, of course- and Rosalie had told Esme some things about her own family.

But as time went on, Rosalie was getting thirstier and more irritable. She kept trying to get Esme to tell her how long it would be until she would be allowed to return home. Esme was carefully avoiding the subject and doing her best to distract Rosalie from her growing thirst.

_Edward, we're going to have to take her back out soon. I wonder what's keeping Carlisle?_

"Just wait a bit longer," I murmured from downstairs. If he didn't come back soon, we would have to take her hunting without him. Esme and I were strong enough to subdue Rosalie if she got wild, but it didn't mean we wouldn't get bitten.

Twenty minutes later, I was relieved to hear Carlisle thinking my name.

_Edward! Can you hear me? I'm a mile to the northeast. Could you please bring me a change of clothes and a match?_

I smiled and ran upstairs to his and Esme's room. Thankfully, Rosalie was still angry at me, and she didn't turn around to see what I was doing as I quickly pulled some clothes out of Carlisle's bureau. Esme saw me, however, and nodded slightly to me.

_Go ahead, I'll be fine for a bit._

I ran back down and out through the kitchen door, grabbing a book of matches on the way out.

I found him waiting by a bubbling stream. As I walked up, the stench of ash and death hit my nose. I grimaced, holding my face away as I handed him the clothes.

"It's done," he said grimly. "Rosalie Hale is dead." He stripped and jumped into the stream, using a handful of leaves to scrub the smell out of his skin and hair. While he was washing I scraped at the grass, creating a clean spot of soil. I piled his tainted clothes on the spot and lit them on fire.

"Are you going to tell her?" I asked as we began walking back to the house.

"Soon. It might be best to let her calm down for a few days first. So, did I miss anything?"

"Not unless you were hoping to see a fashion show."

He laughed. "It's going to be quite different, having two ladies in the house! I suppose it will take some getting used to."

I stopped walking. "You really think she'll want to stay with us?"

"Why wouldn't she?"

"Carlisle, she's…" I didn't want to be impolite. How should I put it? "She's not like Esme. She's a very self-centered creature, and her thoughts aren't entirely kind toward us. But for the most part, all she thinks about is her own appearance. She has one of the most shallow minds I've ever encountered."

He raised an eyebrow. "And this disqualifies her from joining our family?"

"No, of course not. I just think she might want to go her own way."

"You mean you _hope_ she will," he said drily.

I just shrugged.

"Give her a chance, Edward. I'm sure you remember how difficult your first weeks were. She needs a family to stand by her, whether or not she ultimately chooses to stay with us." He suddenly switched to reviewing surgical procedures in his mind, reciting the instructions in various languages.

"What?" I asked suspiciously.

"Nothing. Let's go. I don't want to leave Esme alone with her too long." He started running and I flew by him, reaching the house five seconds before he did.

"That's not fair," he laughed as leapt up onto the porch. "You didn't use your handicap!"

I smirked back at him over my shoulder. "Serves you right for blocking me out. Keep your mysteries, then." I headed into the house, calling for Esme.

_Edward, thank God you're back! She's going to lose it any minute._

I flew up the stairs, Carlisle on my heels. Esme had her arms gently wrapped around Rosalie, who was trembling. She had shadows under her black eyes. "I don't want to hunt _animals_!" she was repeating over and over. "Why do I want human blood? I don't want to be a monster!"

"You're not a monster," Esme soothed. "It's just harder at first. Things will get easier, you'll see. Look, Carlisle and Edward are home! Let's all go hunting again."

Rosalie nodded, standing up. She followed us silently into the forest and cried out in pain when she caught the scent of a fox nearby. But it wasn't enough; it only made her angrier. We kept searching and finally caught up with a pair of black bears. Rosalie fed happily and she was soon herself again. Carlisle showed her how to find the best place to hide her kills, and after she had disposed of them, she sighed in satisfaction, straightening her dress. _Oh! What a mess_, she fretted as she saw the blood on her wrinkled skirt. _I'm going to run through all her clothes in a week at this rate._

"I don't suppose you'd take me shopping?" she asked Esme. "I'm not thirsty now- I'm sure I could handle it."

"I don't think that would work," Esme said kindly. "But I've got a better idea." She took Rosalie's hand and they began running back toward the house, leaving Carlisle and I standing alone.

"Like I said," Carlisle sighed, "It will take some getting used to."

"You've got that right."

"Well, son, I've got the rest of the week off. I don't see why you can't return to your classes tomorrow."

I grimaced. "I'm not sure that's such a good idea. Royce King is-"

"That won't be a problem."

"What?"

"I took care of it."

I eyed him curiously, but he pulled a pamphlet out of his vest pocket, distracting me.

"What's that?"

He smiled, showing his teeth as he tossed me the papers. "Bus schedule."

.

.

.

When I got to school the next day, the rumors were already flying. Royce King had run away. Royce King had been murdered. Royce King had joined the army. Royce King had married a princess from Eastern Europe. Everybody had a theory of why the millionaire playboy of upstate New York had suddenly withdrawn from school, and I eagerly awaited English class to see if he was really gone.

They were _all_ gone. The whole class was abuzz when they realized that Royce's three best friends were missing, as well. I smiled as I listened to the new theories forming in the minds around me. When David White walked in quietly, I paid close attention to his thoughts, knowing he was another friend of Royce's. Sure enough, he was anxiously hoping that nobody would ask _him_ what had happened. He took the seat beside me, thinking that the quiet Cullen boy would be the safest person to sit next to today.

I waited impatiently for David to think something useful, but he so nervous he was actually paying attention to the lecture today. Finally, I nudged him while the professor's back was turned. "So, I heard Royce joined the army. A real hero, huh?" I whispered.

"Yeah," he said nervously, licking his lips. "A hero." _Hero, my foot. He's probably still hiding under his bed. I thought he was joking, when he said I had to come over right away. I didn't think anybody got death threats in real life. And he's such an IDIOT! I practically had to tear the note out of his hands, or he would've given it right to that policemen a minute later. He would never have thought to invent the story of the death threat coming by phone by himself. Idiot._

My eyes widened as I saw the note in David's memory. Although Carlisle had disguised his penmanship, I wasn't fooled.

_I know what you did to her on Friday night. You and your friends are going to pay for what you did, and we're going to come for you when you're all together… when you least expect it. Judgment day is coming._

I almost laughed out loud when I saw the real kicker: Carlisle had written it on University of Rochester letterhead. No doubt Royce believed that the threat had come from one of his professors or fellow students, and they were all surely terrified of coming anywhere near the campus. It was perfect.

I relaxed down into my seat, smiling. It looked like Royce King wasn't going to give us any more trouble.

.

.

.

The next two weeks passed rather slowly. Carlisle went back to work on the night shift so that he could be home with the women while I was at school. I had a lot of time to think, what with my not being allowed to read, and with the long walks to the bus stop. And then, the bus rides themselves- disgusting. It was bad enough being cooped up with thirty-odd minds thinking about how much they didn't want to go to work. But the smells! There was stale coffee, cigarette smoke, body odor, dog hair on people's coats, and the putrid smell of their lunches sitting on the seats besides them. Being in such an enclosed place with so many smells- not to mention the teasing aroma of the humans' blood- was exactly the punishment that Carlisle had meant it to be. By the end of the second week, I was considering walking the next time. Of course, Carlisle had ruined that, too, and I would have to really _walk_ all the way into town. It would take more hours out of the day, but at least I could have more time away from Rosalie.

It wasn't that she was hostile, or even that difficult to manage. She had continued to impress us with her relative calm, so unusual in a newborn. No, she was just _annoying_. Esme had gotten several bolts of various fabrics and was having the time of her life making clothes for her new life-size doll, but that didn't keep Rosalie out of my hair nearly enough. Depending on her volatile moods, she either paced or moped around the house, refusing to do anything other than watch us or complain. Esme tried to get her interested in the sewing, but that hadn't gone over too well. Carlisle had provided her with all kinds of books, but that didn't pique her interest. I offered to give her piano lessons, but she just laughed at me.

That Saturday afternoon, I was cleaning the floors for Esme, since she was still sewing furiously upstairs. Rosalie was lounging on the new couch in one of her new sundresses, watching everything I did. Finally I turned on her in exasperation.

"Why don't you go find something useful to do?" I growled.

Rosalie blew out a puff of air, making the hair near her face flutter about. "It's not like there's anything to do, Edward. Don't you people ever _go_ anywhere?"

"Are you thirsty?"

She sat up. "No, not that! I mean go _out_. You know, parties, go see a band in the park, go to the pictures… is any of this ringing a bell?"

"Ah, you mean socializing."

She threw herself back into the cushions, sighing again. "Yes."

"Rose, you know that we can't-"

"Stop it!" she snapped.

"What?"

"Don't ever call me that." _Royce called me that._

"Oh… I'm sorry, Rosalie. I didn't know."

The silence was made more awkward by the human memories Rosalie was trying to pull into focus. She was trying to remember what it felt like to be the center of attention at a gala that one of her friends had thrown for her last birthday. The more she tried to grab onto the memory, the more it slipped away, and she was growing angry. Why did she do this to herself?

"All right, come on. Let's get you out of the house," I said gruffly, putting the mop away.

She brightened and flew to my side. "You mean it? I can be around people now?"

I winced. I hadn't meant to get her hopes up. "No, but I want to show you something, if you can promise to keep a secret."

Her eyes sparkled as she nodded, and for just a second, she was beautiful again.

"Rosalie and I are heading out for a bit, but we won't be far," I called to my parents upstairs. Carlisle acknowledged me mentally.

I took her out to the greenhouse. As I pulled the tarpaulin away, she smiled. "It's beautiful. You made it yourself?"

I nodded, pleased that she was impressed.

She walked slowly around the small building and reached out to touch the vines I had sculpted onto the trellis. "This is lovely."

It seemed that Rosalie appreciated beauty, even when it wasn't her own. I demonstrated how I had made the sculpture, and she settled down on the grass to watch me while I worked on the rest of the greenhouse. I spent the next few hours painting and chatting occasionally with my sister- this was how I was beginning to think of her. Annoying or not, she was always _there_. It wasn't so bad this time. I talked as I worked, telling her about some of Carlisle's adventures back in the 1800's, my studies at the university, and some of the projects that Esme had done in our house so far.

"Why are you working so slowly?" she asked suddenly. "Couldn't you have finished the whole thing in one day?"

"I like working at human speed sometimes," I explained as I began sanding some of the shelves. "For one thing, it gives me more satisfaction when a job takes longer to complete. But also, it gives more inspiration. If I had rushed through this, I wouldn't have had some of the ideas for the extra little touches. The vines, for example, and the bird house." I had built a tiny house onto one of the windows, with the window pane forming the back wall. "Esme had always enjoyed watching birds, but they are naturally frightened by her scent. This way, she'll be able to stand inside the greenhouse and watch whatever creatures decide to make the house their home, without scaring them. And these..." I showed her some of the tiny seed drawers that I had installed. "I suppose it would have been quicker and more utilitarian to make larger drawers, or just shelves. But I decided to take the time to do it this way instead."

"So, this is all for Esme, then?"

"Yes, it's a gift for Mother's Day- that's the secret I was talking about." I looked up, hoping she would nod, or wink conspiratorially, or something.

But she was frozen stiff, staring ahead at nothing. Without my gift, I would have thought she was bored. But she was thinking of her own mother, and how she wouldn't be able to give her roses on Mother's Day, like she always had. She was wondering how long it would be until she could talk to her mother again, wishing she could lay her head on her lap and cry her eyes out, telling her all about the vampire nightmare that she had just woken from.

"I'm sorry," I said softly. She slowly came back to the present, and looked up at me. _I already have a mother, Edward. She's waiting for me to come home. I'm not supposed to be here._

"I'm sorry," I said again, uncomfortably. What else was I supposed to say? I'm sorry that my father decided to bite you, instead of letting you die? I'm sorry that you're stuck with such boring vampires? I turned away from her and worked in silence. I decided to begin painting a delicate floral pattern on the seed drawers, and Rosalie watched me as she sat there, frozen. I had no idea how to handle this new mood of hers, and I was grateful for the glass wall between us.

We didn't speak again for the rest of the afternoon.

.

.

.

Rosalie was still silent, thinking about her mother as we were all sitting in the living room together that evening. Carlisle had run into town for a newspaper, and he was reading the article about the police finding Rosalie Hale's body the week before. We had burned Rosalie's old clothes, but Carlisle had kept aside her jacket and the engagement ring she had been wearing. This had been enough for the police to indentify the girl that had tragically burned to death inside an abandoned fishing hut. They supposed she had gotten lost down by the river, and had taken shelter against some storm in there, foolishly trying to light an old oil lamp to keep warm.

I sighed aloud as I read along with him, and he peered at me over the edge of the newspaper. _I know, son. I'll tell her soon. After her next hunt, when she's at her calmest._ I nodded in agreement.

Rosalie suddenly sat up straight. "I just had the best idea!" she announced. "Even if I can't see my family anytime soon, maybe I could write to them. We could make up a story about how I was nervous about the wedding, and how I just needed some time on my own- what?"

Carlisle and I were staring guiltily at each other, and Esme reached over to rub Rosalie's shoulder gently. "I'm sorry, sweetheart," she said quietly, "but that's just not possible."

"Why not? We don't need to tell them that I'm nearby. My mother must be frantic by now, and my little brothers..."

Carlisle put the newspaper aside, and leaned forward in his chair. "Rosalie, I need to tell you something that will be difficult for you to hear. Please understand that we're doing everything we can to help you."

Rosalie shrank back into Esme's arms, waiting fearfully for him to speak again.

"It wasn't possible to let the police keep searching for you," Carlisle explained gently. "They would've gotten out here eventually, and your picture would have been circulating everywhere. That would make it very difficult for you to be seen in public. People might recognize you, even twenty years from now, even in other states. So, I did the only thing I could do, Rosalie… I let them think you had died."

"I don't understand," she said slowly. "I'm sitting right here. My body-"

"I found a body similar to yours in the hospital's morgue, and I used your old jacket and ring. I staged an accident, and they believed what I intended for them to believe. Your family believes that you are gone now. It's easier for them this way, and better for you. You can be more free this way."

"They think I'm… dead?" Rosalie's hands were trembling and she began sucking in gulps of air, as if she couldn't get enough of it. "But…"_ I was going to go home. It was all going to be all right. How could he do this to me? He had no right!_

"I know it's very difficult to accept," I said. "But it really is better this way. And you'll never be alone, if you don't want to. We can be your family. Esme and Carlisle are the best parents in the world, and I-"

She stood up, her eyes burning. "I already have a mother," she said in a quivering voice. She looked around at our family for another moment, her shock turning to anger as her eyes rested on Carlisle. "This isn't my family. I already have a family, and you're taking them away from me!" Suddenly she sprinted out the front door, slamming it behind her.

Esme shot to her feet. "We've got to stop her! She'll go to the city! Carlisle!"

"I'm the only one that can catch her," I sighed as I ran out into the rain.

.

.

.

But Rosalie wasn't headed toward the city. I easily tracked her scent and her wild thoughts through the woods, skidding to a stop when I heard a strange metallic noise contrasting against the thunder. I closed the remaining distance in less than ten seconds, roaring in anger when I found her.

She was destroying the greenhouse.

In the few seconds before I had arrived, she had already torn apart most of the wood structure, and now she was using one of the iron rods to crush the vine trellis, beating in into a twisted pile of garbage. I attacked her from behind, yanking the rod out of her hands and shoving her into the dirt as I yelled at her. "What do you think you're _doing_?! I've never hit a woman before, Rosalie, but so help me-"

"I ALREADY HAVE A MOTHER!" she screamed into the ground. She scrambled to her feet and hissed at me, swiping with a clawed hand. I leapt back just in time. She slipped on the wet ground and crashed down onto her knees, weeping.

"I already have a mother," she choked out again. "She thinks I'm dead. I wish I was dead. I'm supposed to be dead. Why didn't he just let me die?" Her whole body shook with her dry sobs. I sat down beside her in the mud, awkwardly pulling her into my arms. She buried her face in my shoulder and I held her, patting her hair as she cried hysterically, begging me to kill her. The storm raged on around us, its rain giving my sister the tears she so desperately ached to shed.


	8. Symphony

Rosalie didn't speak again for days. We had cleared out one of the bedrooms for her, and she now spent hours at a time sitting alone in there, staring at the floor. Carlisle was beginning to be really worried about her, and Esme finally gave up trying to engage her in conversation.

By the second weekend in May, it was getting unbearable. Her thoughts were an unending stream of self-pity, complaints and hateful comments aimed toward me. Although she knew I wasn't the one who had decided to change her, she knew that I was the only one who could hear her silent tirade, so she had decided to address me the entire time. And so whenever I was in the house, I was constantly bombarded by her one-sided conversation about how miserable her life was. How heartless Carlisle was. How simple and unrefined Esme was. How annoying I was. How her entire life had been destroyed, and -this was the real kicker- how _we_ had destroyed it. She made it sound like Carlisle had single-handedly taken her future away from her; a future glittering with elegant crowds, diamonds, and smiling babies. Since Royce wasn't around to receive the blame, everything was conveniently _our_ fault.

After a few disastrous attempts to correct her mental absurdities, I had kept my mouth shut. I tried to keep reminding myself that she was not only an emotionally volatile newborn, but also a young lady who had just been through two terrible traumas. And I certainly wasn't going to repeat the awful things she was thinking about Carlisle to his face. Not that I needed to; he had tried a few times to speak to her himself, only to be quickly discouraged by her murderous glare.

Carlisle came home from work that night, apprehensive as he neared the house. I headed out the door to meet him, more than happy to put some distance between myself and Rosalie's mind. I had tried to be patient, but she was making it difficult.

Carlisle nodded when he saw me approach. "How was she last night?" he asked reluctantly.

"The same."

He ran both his hands back through his hair in frustration. "This isn't working. I never should have changed her."

"It's not your fault that she's depressed."

"Neither of you were like this. Even Esme, who had just tried to kill herself, wasn't like this."

"Well, that was different. As soon as she woke up, she saw _you_."

"Yes, I suppose love makes things like this easier."

He was remembering the first weeks after he had brought Esme home. Though Esme's thirst had been much more prominent than Rosalie's, she had been much easier to get along with- of course, that was mostly due to her gentle personality, and her love for Carlisle. He was comparing Rosalie to her, now, thinking about how much easier it would be if Rosalie had somebody to love. If she and I would just get over our differences and try to-

"What was that?" I asked sharply.

Carlisle looked up at me guiltily. He was worn out from worry, and he didn't have the mental energy to stop me from seeing the memory that he had been hiding for the past three weeks, the memory that rose to the surface of his thoughts now.

He had just found Rosalie, lying on the cold pavement, a light coating of snow over her as she gasped for breath, waiting to die. _What a tragedy,_ Carlisle had thought as he approached her, confirming easily that the woman was beyond medical aid. As he turned the body over gently, he gasped when he saw her face._ Rosalie Hale! How did she get into something like this? What a waste! _He turned to leave, disgusted with the tragic fate that had been visited on the most beautiful, most sought after girl in the region. But then he paused, and turned back around. _Her human life is over. She's better off, in a way- now she'll never have to endure marriage to that idiot son of the banker. I wish that I had known to change Esme earlier than I did, so she wouldn't have had to endure marriage to that awful Charles Evenson. At least she's happy now. But what if Rosalie could be happy, too? Edward is so alone… and Rosalie would be the most beautiful immortal ever created. Edward deserves the best, doesn't he? And she would be happy with him, like Esme is with me. _ He imagined us hand in hand, both with golden eyes staring at each other, our beauty perfectly matched, and his heart soared with hope. _If I can help him know even a fraction of the happiness that Esme and I have… _ That decided it, and he glanced around, picking Rosalie up and racing home with her.

I stared at him in horror as the memory concluded. "You did this… for me?" I choked out.

"For her, too, but… yes, I suppose I did," he sighed. "I'm sorry, Edward. I just thought-"

"You thought what?" I said angrily. "That if you brought home someone beautiful enough, that it would just happen? Are you _insane_?"

"I brought her home without biting her. I was going to… to ask you. I wondered if maybe you had noticed her, if the two of you had met before…"

I crossed my arms. "Yes, we had met. And I could have told you that she would be the _last_ woman of my acquaintance that I would've wanted to spend eternity with!"

"Like I said, I brought her home," he continued wearily. "I waited as long as I could, and then I couldn't bring myself to just let her die in our living room. I let them die every day, in the hospital, but in our own home- I just couldn't do it."

"And if I had come home in time, and told you what a stupid idea it was?"

"I don't know, Edward, I just don't know. God, what have I done?" He sank down to the ground, staring ahead with his chin on his knees.

I dropped down beside him, matching his posture. "Well, what's done is done. We've got to make the best of it."

"No improvement today at all?"

"None."

We both sat in silence, thinking. Finally Carlisle spoke. "Edward, you've seen her mind. What can we do to help her move on? What's something that she wants?"

I snorted in disgust. "Two weeks ago, I would have said to stare at her own reflection for the rest of eternity."

"Not now, Edward, please."

"Sorry. Anyway, she hasn't even cared about that lately. I don't think she's even changed her clothes this week. Maybe if we… no, that's not possible."

Carlisle picked up his head. "What? What were you going to say?"

"The day we told her about her death- earlier that day, she was asking about going out. You know, socially. Being with people again. I think the only thing that made her happier than looking at herself was having _other_ people look at her."

Carlisle growled in warning. "Edward, I said enough."

"No, I'm serious! I think she misses being out in society. Her memories are patchy, but most of them are about being at parties, or going to social events with her peers or her family. If we could find something to take her to, maybe she'd snap out of it. But like I said, it's impossible. It's much too early."

Carlisle sat thoughtfully for a while, running through possibilities in his head. There was an outdoor symphony in Oneida next weekend…

"You can't be serious," I said.

"Why not? It's far enough from Rochester that she won't be recognized. It'll be dark, and it's not a populated area. If there's any problem, we'll either take her up to the forest, or get her back in the car."

"She's a newborn, Carlisle!"

"Yes, and I know it's only been a few weeks. But she has exceptional control, and those symphonies always have a lot of chairs spread out. If we can't get her that close, we can just watch from the forest."

"And if she slips up? There are going to be a lot of people there. Don't you remember how horrible Esme felt when she had her accident?"

Carlisle frowned. "I realize that it's a big risk. But we've got to try something to get her moving again. Do you realize that she hasn't fed in six days now?"

"Wait, you haven't taken her out either?"

He shook his head.

"Well… that _is_ exceptional. But still, a newborn, less than a month old…"

"I know. It's a risk. But we could use this next week to begin desensitizing her, and see how she does."

I shrugged. "You're the doctor."

.

.

.

Carlisle's idea worked like a charm. As soon as we suggested the idea to Rosalie, she yelled for Esme, thinking about which outfit would be best.

"Now, hold on," Carlisle laughed. "It's not that simple. We'd like to expose you to humans slowly over the next week, and see how you do. It takes some practice to get even within a mile of human blood. And you're still quite new, Rosalie- I can't guarantee you'll be able to attend this particular concert."

"I can do it, Carlisle," she insisted. "Just let me get my shoes." She dove into her closet, and was standing by us again a second later, two inches taller. I bit my lip, torn between the desire to mock her ridiculous mood swing, and the desire to sigh in relief at it. She had refused to speak out loud to any of us all week, and suddenly we were one big happy family?

Apparently so. Everyone was happy now, and seemed to want to forget the past two weeks ever happened. I just blew upwards at the hair dangling in my face, and went to find my own shoes.

.

.

.

First, we took her out hunting in the local park. After that, we all packed into Carlisle's car and headed up toward Hamlin Beach. "The salt air will help dilute the human scents," Carlisle explained as he drove. "Now this is how we're going to do it. First we'll only be rolling down the window, and if that goes well, we'll see about letting you get out of the car for a bit. This is going to be difficult, Rosalie, and you need to tell us if it's too much, all right?"

She nodded, and I nodded as well. I knew Carlisle was counting on me to watch her thoughts like a hawk as she began her exposure. The two of us were in the back seat, and I would have to be ready.

We pulled up as near the water as Carlisle could get. "Edward?" he murmured, and I closed my eyes, opening my mind up to check for thoughts near us.

"There are two men fishing on the beach, about a mile to the west," I said. "Not much else in my range." I stirred uncomfortably; maybe we should have done this at night. More people would be arriving before too long.

"That's just what we need. All right, Rosalie, hold your breath and crack the window open."

She clamped her mouth shut and rolled the window down an inch. I turned toward her slightly, ready to pounce at the first sign of trouble, but she seemed good so far.

"Now, take a small breath in through your mouth, and focus on keeping your muscles relaxed."

Rosalie opened her mouth, and her nose twitched immediately. _Blood._ Her eyes widened just a bit, but she was still relaxed. "You're doing well," I said, and she nodded.

"Edward, why don't you roll down the window some more. Rosalie, keep your hands in your lap, please."

I reached across her and rolled the window down slowly, watching her face the whole time. "I'm all right," she whispered. But she gripped the seat suddenly, and stopped breathing. _I can do this. I can do this._ _It smells so sweet…_

She gripped the seat harder, but I didn't roll the window back up. "Take another breath when you think you're ready," I suggested. "You can do this."

She nodded, and cautiously inhaled through her nose. Her eyes darkened and her fingers began tearing through the fabric of the seat. "Okay, I think that's enough," I muttered, rolling up the window.

She grabbed my arm. "No! Let me try again." _Please, Edward. I can do this. Let me try again._

Carlisle nodded. "Let's wait a minute, first."

We waited until she was fully relaxed again, and then I rolled the window down all the way. She inhaled carefully, clenching and unclenching her hands as she continued breathing in and out.

_Remarkable_, thought Carlisle. "Very well done, Rosalie. Why don't we keep the window open for a while?" _Edward, keep an ear out for more humans arriving._

We sat in silence for another twenty minutes, while Rosalie breathed deeply. Finally, Carlisle turned around. "How are you doing, Rosalie?"

She nodded. "I'm all right. It smells good, but I'm all right. Can we try getting out?"

"I don't see why not. We'll just open the door first, and go from there."

Carlisle and Esme got out and stood outside Rosalie's door. I stayed in the back seat with her, blocking her escape out the other side. Carlisle slowly opened her door, and waited while Rosalie began breathing again. She tensed, but relaxed again after a moment, and looked up at him hopefully. He nodded.

She swung her legs out and stood outside on the sand, inside the cage that Carlisle and Esme's arms had formed. But this was too much- using her muscles had awoken her body to the hunt, and she immediately lunged forward, straining into their arms. _Blood. So sweet, so close! Let me go!_

I shot out my arms and yanked her back into the car, keeping her waist in an iron grip as she fought me. Carlisle slammed the door shut and slipped back into the driver's seat, backing the car away from the beach while I struggled to hold Rosalie's hands away from the door handle. After a few more seconds, she stopped struggling. "I'm sorry," she gasped, yanking her hands out of mine. "I thought-"

"No, you did very well, sweetheart, said Esme proudly. "I never could have done that when _I_ was a month old."

"Yes, I think that went very well for a first try," Carlisle agreed. "I think it got difficult because your body thought you were beginning the hunt. Maybe next time we should have you start moving around inside the car before you get out."

"Can we try again?" she asked shakily. Her eyes were still too dark.

"I think we need to call it a day. Her eyes aren't right," I told Carlisle.

"I can do this, Edward!" she snapped angrily.

"I'm not saying you can't," I said gently. "But there will be more humans out soon, and you're not in control anymore."

"I'm afraid Edward is right," Carlisle said as he pulled out onto the highway. "But we'll try again tonight."

When we got home, Carlisle called in to the hospital that night to say he would be delayed due to an illness in the family. We drove Rosalie up to the beach again around nine o'clock, with good results. This time she was able to stand outside the car for five seconds, and after a break inside the car, she was able to stand outside again for two minutes.

We continued desensitizing her throughout the week, and she did very well. By Friday night, she was able to walk down the beach with us, passing by a human twenty yards away. Her depression was all but forgotten, and she was determined to make it to the symphony on Saturday. She already had her dress picked out- an evening gown in a deep red organza, with black satin roses embroidered around the neck and sleeves. It was hanging in the front of Rosalie's closet, and every time we brought her back home, she would run upstairs and stand in the center of her room, staring at it. She wouldn't wear it until the symphony; the dress was her inspiration to succeed, and wearing it would be her reward. I didn't have the heart to tell her that we would need to keep our coats on if everyone else did.

When Saturday arrived, Carlisle announced that Rosalie was ready to attend the symphony, and she smiled so hugely that I had to smile back. I _was_ proud of her. Esme rushed over and hugged her excitedly, but I stayed back. She might be my sister, but she was still a young lady. It was ironic- I had already attacked her once in anger, and held her as she wept right after that, but I didn't feel comfortable giving her a hug. She didn't seem to notice my discomfort, though; she and Esme were running up the stairs to figure out what shoes would be best for tonight.

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.

.

As it turned out, the night was quite warm and we didn't need the coats. Carlisle and I were sitting down in the living room in our suit jackets, waiting. "Esme!" Carlisle called impatiently. "We don't want to be late!" _She's usually so prompt. What are they doing up there?_

"Like you said, it takes some getting used to," I joked.

A moment later, Esme floated down the stairs, wearing a lovely black cocktail dress and pillbox hat. "You look lovely, dear, as always," Carlisle murmured as he stood and crossed the room to kiss her tenderly. She smiled and turned to look back up the stairs, and I followed her gaze.

Rosalie started coming down the steps, and my breath caught when I saw her. The gown was literally made for her – it was one of the first Esme had completed. But it was _made_ for her- it was as if the color had been invented solely for her use. She had a matching tilt hat, which she was wearing on the left side, and it was also decked with the black satin roses, and a bit of black ivy. Her hair spilled over her shoulders like a golden waterfall, and Esme had gotten it to take on a light curl. She had even given Rosalie a little touch of rouge and lipstick.

Carlisle reached up to take her hands as she reached the bottom of the staircase. "Rosalie, you look absolutely beautiful! And what a perfect color!"

Rosalie smiled down at him, and Carlisle turned toward me slightly. _Say something nice, Edward._

I didn't need to be told twice. "Rosalie, you look… wow."

_Finally!_ She grinned back at me in triumph, relieved that I had finally come to my senses. _Don't worry, Edward, I'll let you down gently._ I opened my mouth in protest- I hadn't meant to-

She winked at me. _Just kidding._

I smiled in relief and bowed with a flourish. "Might I have the honor of escorting you out, dear sister?" I offered her my arm, and she accepted, giggling and leaning into my shoulder.

Carlisle and Esme hung back, watching us go out to the car. Esme leaned in toward her husband, standing on her toes to whisper in his ear. "Carlisle, do you think..."

"No," he said thoughtfully, "but I think Rosalie has finally found her family."

.

.

.

We arrived just as the orchestra was tuning. Carlisle parked at the very front edge of the lot, and we waited while Rosalie stretched out her muscles in the car – this helped her body to avoid the hunting response when she got out. Carlisle and Esme positioned themselves out by her door, as they had done every time, and Rosalie slowly stood up beside them. She took a few deep breaths, and nodded. Carlisle and Esme each took one of her hands, and we escorted her toward the bandstand.

We walked slowly up to the very back row of benches, and the first movement began as we took our seats. There were several empty rows in front of us; most people wanted to be as close to the orchestra as possible.

Rosalie was doing quite well. She was breathing as shallowly as possible, reminding herself to focus on the music and not the delicious patrons. She crossed her legs as soon as she sat down, hooking her right foot behind her left leg, and she laced her fingers together tightly. She was sitting too straight, and I leaned over, whispering for her to relax her posture a bit. She slumped forward slightly, and I nodded in approval.

I turned my attention to the symphony, keeping a close watch on Rosalie at the same time. The music was heavenly, and I wondered why we had never done this before. I knew Rosalie was pretending that she was human tonight; it was easy for me to pretend, as well. We were just a normal human family, out for a night of music and socializing. There wasn't much talking during the performance, of course, and only a few times did someone turn around and notice the strange, standoffish family that had arrived late.

When one man looked back, he did a double take when he saw Rosalie. I stiffened, anxiously checking his thoughts. Had he recognized her? But he was just thinking about how gorgeous she was, and wondering if I was her brother or her beau.

Rosalie noticed his attention and smiled coyly at him. The man's heart skipped a beat and he turned back around, making plans to come talk to her during the refreshments that would be served later.

"We need to leave as soon as it's over," I whispered to Carlisle, who was sitting on the other side of Rosalie. "Someone wants to come say hello to her."

"Well, what's wrong with that?" she asked, flipping a stray curl back over her shoulder.

"What's wrong with that, Rosalie, is that he's going to be twelve inches from your face," I explained with considerable patience. Didn't she understand yet?

Rosalie's eyes widened as she imagined a carotid pulse thumping right in front of her. "Oh. Oh, I see. That's a little close."

We sat for the rest of the performance in silence. The last piece was a violin concerto by Beethoven, and I recognized the song as one of my favorites. When I knew the end was only a couple of minutes out, I stood up. "Let's go," I said quietly, but Rosalie stayed put. "Come on," I hissed, "It's going to be over in a minute, and that man is going to want to come talk to you."

"Just a minute. I want to hear the end," she said stubbornly.

"No, you don't. You want to wait and walk out right before everyone else, so that they can see you. So that _he_ can see you."

"So what? I'm not going to talk to him- I won't even wait for him to get too close," she said defensively. _What's the point of wearing a dress like this if nobody gets to see it? And stay out of my head, Edward._

"Carlisle!" I said anxiously. "We've got to go!"

"You're right. Let's go," he said firmly, picking up Rosalie's hand. She resisted for a moment, but one look at his face changed her mind.

"Fine." She allowed us to steer her out and back to the car. When we got her loaded in, I sighed in relief. This hadn't been the best idea. Rosalie was overestimating her control, and she was obviously still addicted to attention. Not a good combination for a newborn. Not at all.

"Well, that was nice," she said brightly when I got in. "What are we going to do tomorrow night?"


	9. Siblings

Mother's Day came and went without much fanfare. I decided not to tell Esme about the greenhouse, thinking that I might like to try again next year, after we had moved to our new home. She wouldn't have gotten much use out of it, anyway, now that we would be leaving Rochester in the summer.

Instead, I scoured Monroe County for the most exquisite wildflowers, presenting Esme with a homemade bouquet and a kiss on the cheek. To everyone's surprise, Rosalie also had a gift for her new mother. After I had given Esme the bouquet, she handed Esme a folded piece of paper, asking her to read it later. I felt that I should give them both some privacy regarding the note, and so I never knew what Rosalie had written. From that day on, however, I did notice that Rosalie was kinder to Esme and made more of an effort to spend time with her.

Taking Rosalie to the symphony had succeeded in bringing her out of her depression. Now we had the opposite problem. She was constantly dreaming up social occasions that she wanted us to try out, and Carlisle had a difficult time deciding which ideas to approve. Not only was he concerned about her self-control, but there was also the risk of someone recognizing her. We started out attending a few more outdoor evening events, all at least an hour's drive outside of Rochester and all in lower social circles than her old family and friends would be moving in. When those went well, we attended a high school play in Buffalo. It was a nerve-wracking experience for all of us; it was the first time we had brought her indoors with a crowd of humans, and everyone except Rosalie was tense throughout the entire performance.

But she passed the test with flying colors, and to celebrate, Esme and I took her shopping for the first time. Rosalie made several smart comments about her "bodyguard" but she knew as well as I did that I would rather be anywhere else in the world other than _shopping_ with her. We took her back to Buffalo and decided to shop only in small boutiques, avoiding the larger, more crowded shopping areas. I regretted this decision before long, when I realized that Esme and Rosalie _loved_ to shop. I had taken Esme before, but she had always been so _efficient_ until now. Having a daughter seemed to be awakening some dormant female impulse to linger over everything. The tedium was mind-boggling. How many pink blouses did one need to try on before making a purchase? Pink was pink, wasn't it? And how had Carlisle managed to get himself out of this trip?

By the seventh shop I refused to enter any more stores, stationing myself outside the door each time they entered. It wouldn't take me even a full second to reach Rosalie anyway, and I had had enough giggling to last me a lifetime. I decided then and there that if my miracle ever occurred and I were to marry someday, I would have to make sure that my bride was the type of woman who _hated_ to shop.

.

.

.

It seemed the torture would never end. We finally arrived back home around five o'clock, the car full of pink-and-white shopping bags and the frivolous thoughts of my mother and sister. I escaped up to my room as soon as I was able, breathing a sigh of relief and feeling a strangely human urge to flop down on my bed in exhaustion. I had no bed, of course, and I wasn't really tired, so I stood in the center of the room, wondering what to do with myself while the women tried on their purchases again. Again! They had just tried them on in the boutiques! I needed to find something _masculine_ to do.

I jumped out my window and headed to the garage, which was separated from the house by a covered walkway. I laid my hand on my car when I entered, sighing in frustration. I missed driving, and I still had a good month of my punishment left. I had used Carlisle's car for the shopping trip, since my own was off limits.

He drove a Chevrolet Eagle, and it hadn't been nearly as fast as my own vehicle. Still, I had always wondered if there was a way to get my Lincoln to go just a little faster. I had time on my hands, since I wasn't allowed to read, and I decided it was time to pick up a new hobby. Carlisle had a book on automotive maintenance, but I would wait to ask his permission before reading it, not wanting him to think I was trying to get around his order. Instead, I laid down on the cement and scooted myself under my car, staring up at the mysterious parts revealed on the underside. I knew next to nothing about automobiles, and now that I was looking at, and smelling, the inner anatomy of the car, I remembered why I had never had an interest before. I sighed, reaching up to touch what looked like a hose. I grimaced at the dirt and oil that my touch dislodged, and I rolled myself back over, standing up to search for a rag to clean my hands and shirt with.

I went back inside after that, and played the piano until Carlisle returned home. He had gone out hunting while I had taken the women shopping, relived at the chance for a little time to himself. When he entered the living room, he asked me how the shopping trip had gone. I turned around and muttered three words.

"You owe me."

He chuckled. "Surely it wasn't that bad?"

"It was worse," I moaned. "Did you know that there are thirteen identical boutiques in a two-mile radius in Buffalo? And that was _before_ they decided that they both needed new gloves!"

He settled down with the newspaper, shaking his head. _Thank God I went hunting. Sorry about that, son._

"You can make it up to me, you know," I said hopefully, turning back to my piano.

"How's that?"

"I know I'm not allowed to read recreationally, but I've been thinking about beginning some work on the Lincoln. Would it be all right if I read your automotive maintenance book?"

"Certainly." _For heaven's sake, Edward. I never mean it to be THAT strict. And you could've taken your car today if you wanted to._

"_Now_ you tell me. Your car is so slow it practically moves backwards." He laughed again, louder this time.

I decided to finish playing the sonata I had just begun, before returning to the garage. I was halfway to the end when Rosalie and Esme appeared suddenly in the living room, dressed to the nines. "All right, Carlisle," Rosalie said loudly, "we're ready to show you what we got today!"

That was it; I had reached my limit. I shot out of the living room, leaving my father to the sharks.

.

.

.

I finished reading the manual in twenty minutes and rolled up my sleeves. I had changed into one of my older shirts and a pair of slacks that I usually wore for hunting, and I had armed myself with two old rags, a bottle of motor oil and a bucket of hot water. My first task was to clean and oil every nook and cranny of the engine, as well as anything I could reach from underneath the car. I decided to take on the project at human speed, like I had done with the greenhouse. Though I didn't think doing this task slowly would yield any artistic benefits, I was hoping I could stretch out my automotive hobby for the rest of the month until I was allowed to read again.

As I worked on the spark plugs, I considered Carlisle's choice to take away my journaling during the two months. I had to admit he was right about one thing; this was the sort of situation that I could analyze for hours upon end. Why _had_ I felt the need to run out and attack Royce, anyway? Though I thought of Rosalie as my sister now, I hadn't felt that way at the time; she had just been the annoying young woman that Carlisle had chosen to bite. No, I hadn't especially felt the need to avenge Rosalie, not at the time. I supposed that it was the guilt, more than anything; the thought that I had known ahead of time what sort of man he was, and had done nothing about it.

Carlisle had said before that I tended to take too much onto myself, and that habit had played a role in the dark years that I had spent away from him and Esme, foolishly thinking that I could play God with the humans around me. I had sworn to never again repeat that mistake, and until Royce King, I had made good on that promise.

It had been difficult reintegrating into human society two years ago. First, there had been the challenge of my compromised self-control around blood; my body had become accustomed to responding to the scent, and of course the fact that I now knew what I was missing made it even _more_ difficult to resist. But there was another challenge I hadn't anticipated. I was still privy to the thoughts around me, and, like a muscle trained for a certain sport, my gift had become hypersensitive to the type of minds that I had been busy hunting for four years. I would be sitting in school when a policeman would drive by, his siren engaged, and my first thought was always to jump up and seek out the criminal that he was pursuing. One time I had been out hunting with Esme, and I had overheard the excited thoughts of a man near us as he was burying a chest full of stolen money, unknowingly showing me exactly how he had pulled off the robbery. Only Esme's gentle pleas, and reminders of my promise, had stopped me from pursuing him.

The worst, of course, were the real predators. My time at school usually kept me away from these, thankfully. But it was difficult to sit there at first, knowing that heinous crimes were being committed occasionally, just down the road in downtown Rochester. And New York City was only a short run away... Following Carlisle's advice, I was careful not to dwell too long on these thoughts without coming to him. Usually, he would advise me to ignore the crimes, although sometimes he helped me tip off the police regarding some criminal or another, when my mindreading allowed me to determine their local hideout. But he always forbade me to seek out criminals, or to pursue them myself in any way. He knew what a slippery slope that would be for me.

This was why I had felt so guilty about what I had inadvertently allowed Royce to do. I had sometimes felt that Carlisle was overreacting, and that I should be doing more to stop, or at least intimidate men like Royce. I couldn't help but wonder what would have happened if I had paid him a visit in his home one night, threatening him with some vampire trait or another. Would it have prevented the attack on Rosalie? Perhaps not, but then I would have at least felt that I had tried.

The real mystery was why I had attacked Carlisle the way I did. Laying a hand on him had never once occurred to me before that, and after our confrontation the next day, I was shocked at what I had done. That had really been the worst part of my behavior that night, and it sickened me that I had even had the idea of knocking him aside, just so I could run off. How could I have done something like that? I owed _everything_ to Carlisle, and his forgiveness of this latest episode was only one example of the patient, loving father that he was. Why had I so easily-

"Getting in touch with your masculine side, I see."

Rosalie's voice startled me, and I slammed the back of my head against the propped-up hood that I had been working under. A human would have gotten a nasty bump on his head, but of course my head only managed to warp the metal.

I sighed, straightening up to my full height and beginning to flatten the hood back out. "Don't you have some clothes to try on?" I grumbled. I didn't want her in here; this was my sanctuary from her feminine oddities. Also, I was a little embarrassed that she had managed to surprise me.

"Oh, I've had enough of that for one day. What are you doing in there?"

I leaned back under the hood, taking apart the third spark plug. "Dirty, manly things. Go away."

Instead of taking the hint, she hopped up onto the roof of the car- _my_ car- and picked up the manual. I shook my head. She looked ridiculous, perched up on top of an automobile, wearing her new "beautiful dreamer" dress in sky blue; it had been her "find of the day". It was embarrassing that I even _knew_ what the dress was called.

She began flipping through the manual. When she had finished, she jumped down to stand behind me, peeking over my shoulder into the engine.

"For pity's sake, Rosalie, find something else to do!" I growled.

"I can't think of anything else to do. Why are you using that kind of oil?"

"Because it's for automobiles. Now, shoo!"

"No, why are you using _that_ one? Look, on page 236 it says you should use _this_ kind."

I snatched the manual from her, frowning when I saw that she was right. Fortunately for my pride, Carlisle didn't seem to have that kind in the garage. "Well, I would be using that one if we had it. Why don't you head into town and get me some?" _And take the long way home._

She grabbed the manual back out of my hands and smacked me on the head with it. "You know I'm not allowed to leave the house by myself yet. Come on, Edward, I'm bored. Let me help."

"Don't be ridiculous! You'll ruin your precious 'beautiful dreamer'." I showed her the stains on my hands and shirt, and she wrinkled her nose.

I let out a sigh of relief as she left the garage; I should have used the grime excuse from the start. Next time she bothered me in here, I was going to smear motor oil right in her hair.

"Okay, I'm ready!" Rosalie was already standing in front of me again, wearing Carlisle's yard work clothes. "What can I do?"

I just shook my head, handing her a rag and the bucket of water. "Why don't you start by cleaning out the tailpipe," I said smugly. "There's a pipe cleaner hanging over there on the wall."

She glared at me, but got right to work. I was surprised at how she threw herself into it; I knew from her thoughts that she had never even thought of touching an automobile until today, except to ride in them to her social engagements.

Two hours later, we were still working in peaceful silence together. I was truly impressed with the ideas that she had come up with. I had briefly mentioned my goal of getting the car to run more smoothly at higher speeds, and she had actually been quiet while she cleaned, scrubbed, polished and oiled every part, joint and line that she could think of. She was a natural mechanic; I had never seen her so interested in anything before.

"We need more manuals," she announced around eight o'clock. "I'll bet if we tried switching out some of these parts that we could easily get another five miles an hour out of her."

Her?

"So, when are you going to teach me how to drive?"

I stared at her, dumbfounded. Now she wanted to _drive_?

"Why would I want to do that?" I asked dumbly.

"Well, I won't be a newborn forever. Someday I'll be able to go shopping without you- and don't tell me you don't like the sound of that."

"No, it's not that. It's just…"

"Just what?"

I had been about to say, you're a _woman_. But I wasn't an idiot. "It's just that I didn't know you had an interest in driving, or cars in general."

"I didn't before. But if you think Carlisle wouldn't let me do that yet, can you at least take me for a ride? I want to see what this car feels like in action." _It looks faster than the Eagle. I had no idea this would be so fascinating!_

"Ah, I would," I said honestly, "but I'm not allowed to drive for another month." As soon as the words left my mouth, I regretted them. What with her newborn curiosity and her love of gossip, she would no doubt want an explanation.

"I thought this was your car."

"It is..."

"Then… why aren't you allowed to drive it?"

I sighed, defeated. "I got in trouble, all right?"

A huge grin spread over her face and she leaned closer. "Edward Perfect Cullen, in trouble? This, I have got to hear."

"I was disrespectful to Carlisle. That's all."

"Come on, Edward! What did you really do?"

I hesitated, deliberating. I had no desire to talk to Rosalie about what I had almost done- if nothing else, it would bring her painful memories back to the surface. But also, I was ashamed of my lapse. I knew that Rosalie hadn't heard the story yet about my years away from home, and I had intended to keep it that way.

On the other hand, Rosalie _was_ a part of the family now. It wasn't fair to keep secrets from her, especially when my talent took away her own privacy. And if we were ever going to get closer- a questionable goal- I was eventually going to have to be honest with her about the mistakes that I had made. She had a right to know what her brother was really like.

"Well?" she asked, an expectant smile on the face. I looked back up at her, feeling an unexpected rush of tenderness for my new sister. Yes, she had a right to know.

"On the night that you were… when Carlisle brought you home," I said quietly, "I saw in your thoughts who had hurt you. I recognized Royce from one of my classes at the University, and I got angry. I decided to go out and take matters into my own hands."

Her smile faded, and I winced as her painful memories of that night flashed in both our minds. "You killed Royce?" she asked in a whisper.

"That was my intention, to kill all of them. But Carlisle stopped me while I was still in the yard, and he convinced me that it was a bad idea. I decided to simply hurt them… badly."

"And Carlisle… helped you?" she asked. Oddly enough, her voice sounded hopeful.

"No, he wouldn't let me go at all. But I was very angry, and… determined. I attacked him- shoved him, really, and got away. I searched for hours, but I was never able to find any of them. I went to Royce's house and read his parents' minds, discovering that he was probably out of town, and likely to stay away until the end of the weekend. I knew that my parents would need help managing you during the transformation, so I came home, intending to finish what I started another day."

"And have you? Finished it?" she asked, entranced.

"No. Carlisle confronted me while you were still in transition, and he made me swear that I wouldn't pursue Royce or his friends."

"Why?" she demanded. "Why wouldn't he let you?"

"Carlisle is a very peaceable man, and in the interest of my own… health, he refused to let me continue."

Rosalie's mind was unreadable for a few moments. I knew there were emotions swirling around in her brain, but I couldn't tell what they were. Her memories of her assault grew louder in her mind and she shuddered, grabbing onto the frame of the car for support.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have-"

"I wish you had done it."

"What?"

"I wish you had killed him! I wish you had killed _all_ of them!" she spat, a sudden fury taking over her features. "At least someone had the courage to do something! I can't believe Carlisle stopped you!"

"It wasn't courage, believe me," I said darkly.

Her face began to relax somewhat. "Well, I suppose it would have been foolish, trying to take on all five of them. Still, he could have helped you!"

"Rosalie, you seem to be under the impression that I wouldn't have been _able_ to kill all five of them. You've been hunting; you know what our bodies are capable of. Do you honestly think I would have needed any help?"

She thought for a moment. "No, I suppose not. What did you mean when you said 'in the interest of your health', then, if he wasn't worried about your safety?"

I took a deep breath, letting it out again before I spoke. "A few years ago, I left home. I had decided that I didn't need to follow Carlisle's rules, his choice in... diet." I watched her eyes, waiting until understanding dawned over them. "I was on my own for four years, and I hunted humans the entire time. I decided to kill those men who were a menace to their own species – men like Royce King. Murderers, rapists, kidnappers, you name it. I thought I was doing humanity a _favor_."

She recoiled in disgust, and I hung my head in shame. I hadn't had to confess my crimes out loud in a while, and the words burned my mouth. "But you came back," she prompted after a moment. _You decided to do the right thing._

I met her gaze again. "The right thing… yes. It was guilt that eventually drove me back to Carlisle. Or rather, the _inconvenience_ of the guilt. You see, I had convinced myself that humans- especially the kind of humans that I was hunting- were an inferior species, and I wasn't really doing anything wrong. My conscience caught up with me in the end. But it wasn't until I returned home, and saw again the humanity in my own parents, that I realized the extent of my sins. I had finally become the monster that Carlisle had raised me not to be. All of us – our kind- we have that monster inside of us, waiting to be released, or released again. You must understand, Rosalie, I am a very selfish person. I didn't go out to kill Royce King for _your_ sake. You- what he had done to you- was just my excuse. I was about to go out there and kill, and although I wasn't planning on drinking their blood, I probably would have done it, if I had found them."

I shuddered at the thought, hating the excitement that coursed through me as the monster remembered what he had almost gotten. It was a good thing I hadn't found those men that night... there was no telling what path it would have led me down.

Rosalie shuddered as well, but for a different reason. As much as she wanted human blood herself, she didn't know what she was missing- and the thought of drinking their blood was repulsive to her. "And now?"

"I will keep my word to Carlisle. I don't want to be that man, that monster again."

She stared at me, an odd mixture of disgust and admiration in her mind. "The real monster is still out there," she whispered. "He's a free man. Listen, Edward, what you wanted to do wasn't wrong. He shouldn't be allowed to… he's going to.. I _want_ you to kill him! I'll _help_ you kill him!" She was shouting now, and the garage door opened. Esme rushed in and took Rosalie in her arms, rocking her back and forth as she began to weep.

I backed away from them, unsure of what I should say. Esme glared at me over Rosalie's hair. _What did you say to her? She was finally moving on from all this! Edward, how could you!_

I realized suddenly that I still hadn't fulfilled my promise to Carlisle. Esme still didn't know what I had done that night. Well, no doubt she was going to find out _now_.

She looked at me again, her eyes softening as she continued to rock her daughter against the car. _I'm sorry, Edward, that wasn't fair of me. Maybe she just needs to talk about it._

I nodded awkwardly. I could analyze and discuss my own problems all day, but I wasn't sure I was up to helping my sister through _hers_. Fortunately, Esme got my attention again.

_I think this might be a good time for her to hear my story… all of it. Edward, would you mind giving us some privacy? Total privacy, please. This is hard for me, too… you understand, don't you?_

I nodded again, leaving the garage hastily. I broke into a run and headed into the forest, getting myself far enough away that I couldn't hear Esme and Rosalie as they quietly confided in each other about the one thing they truly had in common: the men that had destroyed their lives.


	10. Anger

I gave them two hours. I felt uneasy leaving Esme alone with Rosalie for any longer than that, especially in the condition that I had left her in.

I headed back home, stretching out with my gift as soon as I could, to make sure they were all right. I was disturbed to find Esme's mental voice, but no evidence of Rosalie's. I sprinted the rest of the way to the house, desperately searching for Rosalie's mind as I ran. Could she have hurt Esme and run away? But Esme's thoughts were peaceful, if a little sad. She was thinking of her child- the baby that she had lost. Any other time, I would have left her alone if she were dwelling on such a memory, but I was too worried about Rosalie. I stepped loudly on the porch to announce my arrival and opened the front door. Esme was curled up on one end of the couch, holding a cushion tightly against her chest. Her eyes lifted slowly to meet mine as I entered.

"Rosalie?" I asked nervously.

"She's fine," Esme said absently. "She just needed some time to herself. She promised to stay inside the park." _And I promised you would give her some mental space._

I nodded, sighing my disapproval. Rosalie was still a newborn, after all. But Esme tightened her arms around the cushion, her eyes far away.

"It's strange, isn't it? To think that I ended my life because I had lost a child, and now I have both a son and a daughter." She hugged the cushion so tight that her fingernails tore into the fabric. She closed her eyes, letting her breath out slowly as she let the image of her baby drift away. She released the mangled cushion and sat up a little, holding one hand out to me. In an instant I was kneeling on the floor beside her, burying my face in the crook of her arm.

"I'm sorry," I murmured. "Rosalie asked about why I wasn't allowed to drive, and I didn't think-"

"No, it's all right. She had to know your story sometime. And she told me about what happened while she was changing."

I looked up into her eyes, searching for condemnation. I didn't find it, of course; I never had before. But there was sadness, so much sadness. Mourning her real son was painful enough; now her adopted son had once again failed to live up to her faith in him. "I'm sorry," I moaned again, laying my face back on her arm. She laid her hand on my hair tenderly, running her fingers gently through the tangles.

"Don't be," she said softly. "I'm glad you didn't succeed- you know I don't want that life for you. But it was noble, in a way, and I think it helped her feel a little better to know that you tried." _I tried to explain to her, Edward. I tried to explain why vengeance doesn't erase the pain. But she still says that she wishes you had succeeded. She's so very, very angry. I'm sure it will help when we leave._

Esme continued stroking my hair in silence as her thoughts drifted. She was remembering another day, twelve years ago, when she and Carlisle were newly married. She had finally told him the full truth about her human husband, Charles Evenson, and what he had done to her. Carlisle had been enraged, and he was on his way out the door to hunt down Charles and kill him. But Esme had been the one to stop him, saying that she only wanted to move on and forget him. He reluctantly agreed, and we had moved to Montana soon after that.

Esme was remembering her decision to stop Carlisle. She had done it primarily for Carlisle himself; she already knew what kind of a man he was, and what such an act would do to him. But she had also stopped him because the wound was already beginning to heal, thanks to her new life and the love she shared with Carlisle.

But now, after tearing the wound open in order to help her daughter, Esme appeared to be regretting her decision. She wasn't thinking her regret in words; I wasn't sure she would be capable of such a thought. She was simply too kind. But just beneath the surface of her mind, she was wishing that Carlisle hadn't listened to her that day – that the world could be free of Charles Evenson. I saw the desire only for the briefest moment, quickly replaced by the assurance that she would soon outlive him anyway. But I had seen her secret wish, and though I knew she wouldn't want me to speak of it, I wanted to give her the gift she sought.

"Esme," I said gently, taking her hands, "I need to tell you something." She waited curiously, and I held her gaze as I spoke. "When I left you and Carlisle, you know that I hunted humans."

She frowned, wishing I wouldn't put myself through unnecessary torment again. "No, please let me speak," I said quickly, silencing her mental protest. "I knew when I left that I wouldn't want to just kill randomly, that there would be some sort of… selection."

Esme nodded, still confused. Back when I had returned, I had given her a very brief account of my years away, but she did know that I had chosen to hunt criminals. "What I never told you was that my first act was to return to Ohio… to Columbus. I hunted down Charles Evenson, and I killed him. He's gone."

She gasped, and I was surprised at the smile that spread over her face. Just as quickly it faded, and she held the back of her hand against her mouth, ashamed. "Oh, Edward!" she whispered. "I shouldn't be happy, but I am! I'm _glad_." She pulled me close and held me as she stared ahead, her mind racing with the new knowledge that her tormentor was no longer living. She chided herself, again and again, but she couldn't help her relief. I saw now that she had always feared meeting him by accident, and had always wondered if he was hurting someone else. I watched those fears fade away forever, and the warmth that filled my heart made me smile. I pulled away, and planted a kiss on her forehead. _Thank you, son, thank you. I can't tell you how happy this makes me._

"You deserve to be happy, Mother," I said with conviction, and she grinned widely. I very rarely called her anything but Esme, since I had always called Carlisle by his given name. Her heart always soared when I called her Mother or Mom, and this was one of those times when I knew it was right to do so. "You deserve any happiness this world can give you," I continued. "God knows you've given enough to this family."

She looked down, and I knew she would be blushing if she could. But then she frowned suddenly. "Edward," she said in a clearer voice, "Rosalie is going through a very difficult time, and she doesn't have a mate to help her through it like I did. We must all be very understanding. You especially."

"Why me?"

"Because you're her _friend_, Edward. Carlisle and I are doing our best to be her parents, but she needs a friend, too. She needs her brother."

"No, she needs a sister."

"Well, she hasn't got one, Edward. You're all she has, in that way. So please, be patient with her. Listen to her."

"I will."

"And we mustn't tell her about this- about what you just told me about Charles. I was wrong to be happy, Edward. I shouldn't rejoice in the suffering of a human, even his. Now that Rosalie has had a chance to talk about what happened to her, I think it's best if we help her let the past become the past."

"But, Esme, you can't deny the relief that it brought you- when I told you he was dead. Doesn't she deserve that same peace?"

She frowned at me. "Of course she does. But I don't want her to have it at the expense of someone in this family becoming a murderer."

I winced at her words. I deserved them, of course.

She laid her hands on my shoulders firmly. "What you did before was wrong, Edward. It was terribly wrong. But your father and I have forgiven you, and I hope you have begun to forgive yourself. It would tear me apart to see you go down that path again." _Please, promise me._

"I won't. I've already given Carlisle my word. And I will stand by it, no matter what, Esme."

She nodded and pushed me away, standing up. "Well, we had better go find your sister. It was foolish to let her go out alone, I suppose. But she was so upset, and she was so desperate to be by herself for awhile."

"I'm sure she's fine. But you're right, we should go find her."

We headed out the patio door, running into the forest. I soon found her mind, about a mile up ahead, and she was running towards us.

_I'll think about it later. I'll think about it later. I'll think about it later. _

She was obviously trying to block me out. She was new at tying to do this, and it took a considerable amount of concentration for her to fill her mind enough for it to be effective. I felt sorry that I couldn't turn off my gift and give her more privacy; I was sure she didn't want her brother running through _those_ memories with her again. I called out to her softly in an effort to help distract her mind, and she pictured my face, picking up her speed. She came into view, wondering if she should apologize for shouting at me earlier.

"It's all right," I assured her. "Don't give it another thought. Would you like to work on the car some more now?"

She smiled then, silently asking if I wanted to race home. Before I could answer, she took off like a streak of lightening, and I followed closely on her trail, letting her win by a nose. She had never seen my true speed yet; I resolved to show her the next time we were out hunting.

.

.

.

Rosalie was rather quiet in the days that followed, though it was different than the first time she had withdrawn. The first time, she had been depressed about the loss of her human family; this time, she was angry at the men who had taken her life. Instead of hiding in her room and spewing nasty thought at me like the last time, she settled into a cold silence.

She threw herself completely into the task of learning automobile maintenance, and we were all pleased to see her tackling her first hobby. She devoured any manual or book that Carlisle could get for her, and she spent hours on end in the garage, dissecting and reassembling both of the cars as she learned. She began ordering new parts to try out, and even writing to automotive guilds with her questions. Esme bought her a mechanic's jumpsuit as a surprise, but Rosalie preferred to work in style. I came home from school one day to find a sequined evening gown poking out from under the Eagle; she was even wearing high heels. She had found her niche, and I gladly gave over the garage to her care; I had soon tired of working on the car, myself. I had never gotten over the smell of the motor oil, and besides, I felt like a bungling idiot next to Rosalie now. Carlisle taught her to drive, and though we wouldn't allow her to go out alone, she began driving the whole family every time we went out together.

Auto mechanics wasn't the only thing she was learning, however. She was becoming more adept at hiding her thoughts from me. Sometimes I would see snatches of Royce in the thoughts she was suppressing, and I was never sure if I should attempt to draw her out or not. I wished again for the ability to read emotions; it seemed that she was growing somehow _colder_ in the times that she was blocking me out. I assumed that she was steeling herself against the memories, and I did my best to respect her privacy.

Esme seemed to think that Rosalie could just begin to forget, but I knew it might not be so easy for her. For one thing, she didn't have a mate like Esme did. But also, her personality was quite different from Esme's, and it seemed natural that she would handle trauma differently. I mentioned once or twice that she could talk to me about it if she wanted, but she always thanked me politely and changed the subject. In fact, she was more polite every day, and that truly confused me. Instead of relaxing more around me and trading friendly insults with me as she had begun to do before, she seemed to grow more tense, keeping a tight rein on her thoughts. I worried that she was holding too much of her anger and hurt inside, but we both knew that I would never be the confidante that she needed, and I left it at that.

Meanwhile, I was wrapping up my sophomore year, and Carlisle was sending out his résumé . He was planning to pose as a twenty-five year old doctor, fresh out of medical school at Harvard University. He had found it best to use larger schools, as it was easier to falsify records that way, and less questions tended to be raised. He made a quick evening trip to Harvard in early June, altering their records and stealing enough samples of their letterhead to make a dozen transcripts. When he returned, he brought us each souvenirs- which he had actually paid for- so that we could be the proud family of a Harvard graduate. Rosalie was especially pleased with her varsity jacket.

We weren't sure yet where our move would take us, but we would make that move as a family of four. Rosalie's excitement about the move matched our own, especially when Carlisle announced that he thought she was ready to begin school in the fall. I was just a bit jealous- it had taken me well over a year to be ready. But I was proud of my sister, and of her rapid progress. I only hoped that once we started over in our next home, that she would be able to leave her pain and anger behind.


	11. Lost

I decided to walk home on the last day of final exams. I went slowly, bidding farewell to the scenery as I passed it by- especially to the mountains that graced the horizon. I would miss the Adirondacks, but I was looking forward to exploring the Great Smoky Mountains. Carlisle had accepted a position at the hospital in Athens, Tennessee, although we planned to live well outside of town. He had almost gone with a hospital in Memphis; he was attracted by their research programs, as well as the high count of rainy days. But in the end he felt it was more important to stay rural, to protect Rosalie's identity. The New York Times had finally gotten a whiff of recent events, and had published an article in tribute to the tragic death of Rosalie Hale, the beauty who was days away from her ascension to the prestigious King family. Much to our dismay, they had printed a photo of Rosalie along with the feature. We had no way of knowing how many other papers had picked up the article, and Carlisle decided that we would need to avoid large cities for a while.

I was secretly glad of his choice. Athens was much closer to the Smokies, as well several other large state parks and wildlife reserves. Carlisle had assured me that there were plenty of mountain lions to be found, and I was also relieved to learn that there were herds of elk, even that far south. While they weren't nearly as good as carnivores, elk blood was definitely preferable to that of regular deer.

After I was past the city limits I broke into a run, eager to get home and begin packing. We were planning to leave the next day, with Carlisle and Esme in the Eagle and Rosalie and I in my car. I had promised Rosalie that we would take turns driving, and since Carlisle knew the love that both Rosalie and I had for speed, he had agreed to stay back with the moving van, which would be in the care of a hired driver. When he had announced this, I was surprised to hear Esme thinking that she might like to learn to drive. Her daughter could drive now, after all, so why couldn't she? She seemed to have some ridiculous idea that Carlisle wouldn't like that, though, and was delaying bringing it up with him. Earlier in their marriage I probably would have said something to Carlisle, but I decided to stay out of this one. They had managed just fine without me for four years, after all.

Later that night, we all took a break from packing and gathered in the living room to discuss our plans. Carlisle brought out a newspaper which he had ordered from Tennessee, and we looked over the real estate listings, finding a few possibilities for our new home. We wanted to wait until all of us could choose the house together; the driver would be delivering most of our belongings into local storage.

"Oh, Edward, I almost forgot- here." Carlisle opened his briefcase again and produced another packet with "University of Tennessee" printed on the envelope. "If you can get your application filled out tonight, we can drop it off in the mail on our way out tomorrow. I've already signed up for a post office box that we can use as our return address for now."

I took the packet slowly, turning it over in my hands. I really wanted to pick up in Tennessee where I had left off- as a junior majoring in Biology. I was even more interested in medicine now than I had been when I began the classes, and I frowned as I realized what I needed to do.

"Carlisle, I don't think that I should go to college in Tennessee."

Everyone turned to look at me, and I reluctantly handed the packet back to Carlisle. "Think about it. Rosalie will be going to school for the first time, and I need to be able to keep an eye on her. If we go to high school, it'll be much easier to ensure that we have most of our classes together, and we can be closer to home. And we won't have to deal with the sunlight nearly so much, in high school."

"But, Edward!" Esme said. "You've come so far! And I know you don't like high school."

"I don't," I admitted. "But it's best this way. We could start in the middle, and then we could both go to the University together- if you want to, of course," I added, looking over at my sister.

She nodded, her face impassive and her thoughts carefully controlled. I saw a flash of Royce's leering grin but tried not to react. The sooner we got her out of here, the better.

Carlisle and Esme smiled at each other. "Well, son, that's… that's terrific. This takes a load off of my mind," he said as he returned the packet to his briefcase. "We'll keep the cover story that we've already agreed upon, but we'll move both your ages back two years. You'll both be still adopted, and we'll say that Rosalie just joined our family. Let's still have Rosalie be a year younger than you, but we'll say that we're holding you back to her grade because of the delays while you were in foster care."

I nodded. "Yes, I think we should keep that part. It'll make my protective-big-brother tendencies seem less out of place."

Rosalie sighed loudly. "I don't see why _you_ get to be the older one. I'm older than _you_."

"No, you're not," I said, frowning at her. "I'm thirty-two and you're a measly eighteen. And I'm taller, too."

"So what? You're twice as annoying as my little brothers were when I was human- and there were two of them!"

"Annoying? When I come home from school, only to find your lingerie laid out to dry in the _front_ yard-"

"All right!" Esme shouted. "I think you both can continue your argument while you start carrying boxes out to the moving van."

.

.

.

After we had finished the packing, Carlisle and I drove both the cars over to the hospital to clean out his office. He had accumulated an extensive library over the years, and a good third of it was at work. We had waited until two in the morning, so that there wouldn't be too many nurses nosing about while we worked at our normal speed.

We finished in thirty minutes, and when we arrived home, we found a note on the door.

_Took Rosalie out for one last trip. Be back in a couple of hours. Esme_

"That's odd. We just went hunting the other day," Carlisle said as he tore the note off the door.

I shrugged. "Maybe she's nervous. Don't humans eat when they're nervous?"

"Not usually. Maybe she just wants to be as full as possible in case she gets too close to anyone."

"Makes sense," I said. "She's amazing, though, isn't she? If her eyes weren't still that brownish red, you'd never know she was a newborn."

"Yes, amazing," he said thoughtfully. _Edward, are you…?"_

I grinned. "No, your matchmaking stinks. Keep your day job."

.

.

.

Five hours later, Carlisle and I were starting to get worried.

"She said they'd be back in a couple of hours," he fretted.

"They might have decided to go out father," I said. "I know Esme was disappointed that we never got to take Rosalie up to our spot in Ontario."

He frowned. "I don't think she would have done that tonight, though."

We would have gone after their scent, but it had been raining all night. Another hour passed, and I was cleaning the upstairs when I heard Esme's frantic mental voice break into my mind.

_"Edward! Get Carlisle and come meet me! I'm coming from the northwest! Hurry!"_

I cursed, dropping the broom and yelling for Carlisle to follow me as I shot out the front door. As we ran, I heard Esme repeat her message to me again. I waited anxiously for Rosalie's thoughts to appear, as well, but I was getting nothing.

Carlisle's thoughts were a storm of horrible scenarios as he ran beside me. Rosalie had attacked a human and they were hiding the body. They had run into a pair of nomads and had gotten into a fight. The Volturi had captured them.

"Edward, I can't stand it," he finally called. "You go on ahead, I'll follow your scent."

I nodded and burst into my top speed, quickly leaving him behind me. I soon found Esme, and we both skidded to a stop a few inches apart.

"It's Rosalie!" she cried as she looked around for Carlisle. "We were stalking a herd of elk, and we both took one- where's Carlisle?"

"He's coming."

"We both took one, and when I was finished she was just gone. Edward, I looked everywhere! Her scent-"

"I know, the rain. Carlisle will be here in a moment, and then you can take us to where you saw her last. Did she say anything before the hunt? Do anything odd?"

"No! She just said she was thirsty, and that she was worried about running into humans on the drive down. We weren't more than fifty miles out, I'm sure of it."

Carlisle arrived, and Esme told him the story while we all ran together. We reached the spot where they had hunted, and we found Esme's kill still on the ground.

"Where is Rosalie's kill?" Carlisle asked, looking around. "You said you attacked together."

"We did. I mean, we jumped out at the same moment. I just assumed she was drinking as well. You know how it is when you feed."

"She must not have taken an elk," Carlisle said. "Maybe she heard something and went off to investigate."

"Or smelled a more enticing prey, and gone to pursue it," I offered. "The question is, why didn't she come back?"

The three of us arrived at the same conclusion simultaneously. "Another vampire," Esme whispered. "Oh, Carlisle! What if she's been hurt?"

_Or killed_, Carlisle thought grimly, glancing over at me. "Let's search the woods- together," he said grimly. "We're not going to separate, under any circumstances." _I can't believe Esme was out here alone. Just the thought of her running into a hostile nomad… _He shivered and looked around the clearing, sniffing for any evidence of his daughter's trail. "I think it's this way," he said uncertainly as he led us off to the north.

But the weather was determined to thwart us. The rain grew heavier and we were soon in the middle of a full-blown nor'easter. Rosalie's trail was garbled, and we lost it before long. We returned to the clearing again and made a wide circle, widening our search each time we passed our starting point. We never found the scent of another vampire, but it was possible that it could have been washed out, as well. We changed tactics, crisscrossing the forest and visiting some of the hunting spots that Rosalie had been to before. The rain finally ceased around sunrise, but we never picked up her trail again after that.

We finally returned home with heavy hearts, deciding to wait at home for her. We doubted she could have gotten lost, but we weren't ready to accept the possibility that she had been killed or taken. Carlisle called the moving company, saying that an emergency had come up and that we needed to keep the van at the house for another day. We stood motionless outside the front door for hours. I was straining my gift to the limit, searching for her thoughts.

"I'm going into town to look," Carlisle announced suddenly.

"Why? Surely that's the last place she would be," Esme said.

"I don't know. Maybe the thought of leaving today was reminding her that she is leaving her human family behind. I'm going to head to their house first, and see if there's any trace of her scent." _It seems like something she would do. But I don't see why she would do it without telling us- maybe she thought I wouldn't let her go._

Esme leaned heavily against me as we watched him drive away. She was hoping that Carlisle was right, and that he would find Rosalie standing in the shadows, weeping as she held vigil over her lost home and family. It would be a sad picture, but at least we would have her back.

I kept my fears to myself. I still thought that our first theory was correct: that Rosalie had met up with a nomad, and gotten herself into trouble. I didn't think she had truly been killed- I doubted even a nor-easter would be able to cover up the smell of a vampire having been burned. But she could have been taken, or dismembered somewhere. While she was ahead of schedule in terms of resisting human blood, Rosalie was a typical newborn in terms of her volatile emotions. If she did encounter a hostile nomad, it was more than likely she had lost her temper and attacked without thinking. I realized with a sinking heart that we had never even thought to teach her anything about fighting. She had her instincts, of course, but we would never have expected her to need to defend herself alone. A single nomad might not try to take on a newborn, but nomads sometimes traveled in mated pairs, or very rarely in groups of three. We had promised her, upon her awakening, that no one would ever hurt her again. But she was more beautiful than ever now; it was entirely possible that a pair or trio of male nomads might have come upon her, and that her fate been repeated. The very idea made me feel sick, and I felt guilty now for the annoyance I had felt when we had brought Rosalie into her family. She was my sister now. I knew that if we never found her, I would feel the loss for the rest of eternity.

There was the other possibility, of course; Rosalie could have simply decided to _leave_ us. I wouldn't have been surprised if she had done so in the beginning. But over the past few weeks, she had truly come into her own as a member of the family. She might not be the sweet, warm person that Esme was, but I couldn't bring myself to believe that she would just leave without saying goodbye. And I really didn't think that she would have suddenly decided to abandon the animal diet, either.

Carlisle was gone for hours. I called the moving company at four o'clock to extend our rental another two days. Esme and I waited out on the front porch again, and Carlisle finally returned alone around eight. When he got out of the car, he just shook his head, and walked past us into the house, collapsing into a chair.

"Nothing," he said tiredly. "Absolutely nothing. I don't know what to do."

Esme began to cry, and Carlisle just looked up at her with a hopeless regret in his eyes. I crossed the room and wrapped my arms around my mother, her dry sobs shaking both of us. As I held her, I wondered if this is how my parents had looked after I had left them back in 1927. It had never occurred to me that they might have been worried about my safety. In fact, it had never occurred to me to fear for the safety of _any_ member of my family. I was accustomed to thinking of our kind as indestructible.

My parents had waited four long years for my return. How long would they have waited, if I hadn't come back? How long would we wait for Rosalie? Our kind carried hope like we carried everything else; eternally. Time had little meaning.

After Esme had quieted, I decided to give my parents some time alone. "I'm going to run up to Hamlin Beach," I said as I headed for the door. It was the place where we had first exposed her to humans, and the site of her first success.

"I already looked there," Carlisle said.

"Then I'll try Buffalo."

"I looked there, too."

"Oneida, then. I can't just sit here!" I said angrily. I took a deep breath. "I'm sorry… I'm sorry. I just want to do something to help."

"Of course, Edward. Go ahead." Esme said, going over to sit in Carlisle's lap. He just laid his head on hers and nodded to me.

_Thank you, son. Just be back by sunrise, so we don't have to worry._ I nodded and slipped out the door, leaving them to find some comfort in each other.

.

.

.

I went straight to the park in Oneida where we had seen the symphony. The bandstand and the benches were empty now, and I felt like a ghost moving through the empty aisles. I went to the back row and sat where I had before, keenly aware of the empty spot beside me. Rosalie had been so brave to come here, and more eager than she should have been to try going out among the humans. She was so full of life, in her own unique way. The thought that her life might have already been cut short was just so _unfair_. She had just begun to enjoy herself! I remembered her smile when she was shopping in those ridiculous boutiques with Esme. I remembered the focus in her eyes when she was learning something new about the car. I remembered just two weeks ago, when she and Carlisle had returned from her first driving lesson. She had looked so _triumphant_.

The more I thought about it, the more sure I was that she hadn't abandoned us. No, if Rosalie was separated from her new family, it wasn't by choice. I recalled again her thoughts on the day of her driving lesson. She had been thinking that her new life was bringing her a freedom that she might never have had as a human.

Had that freedom really ended so soon?


	12. Killer

**Time for the final chapter... and the not-so-happy ending, as you've all probably guessed. I just want to say thank you to everyone who's been enjoying this story. Special thanks to Vero Jiminez who helped me with a couple of ideas for this chapter.**

* * *

><p>Carlisle left to search again as soon as I returned home. He was planning to visit every place that we had ever taken Rosalie, either for hunting trips or more human pursuits.<p>

I heard his thoughts returning in less than two hours. It was raining heavily again and there was no point in searching anymore. It was ironic- we usually loved the rain and clouds, since they gave us freedom. Now we cursed them, giving up all hope of finding Rosalie's scent. There was no point, anyway. Carlisle and Esme had come to the same conclusion that I had- she either wasn't coming back, or couldn't. But that didn't mean we didn't want to keep trying.

Carlisle pulled into the garage, getting out of the car with the same hopeless look as before, but he wasn't empty-handed. He had spent most of the morning collecting various newspapers. We took them into the living room, poring through the local news of all the nearby cities, looking for stories of "animal attacks" anywhere nearby. If there had been a pair of nomads passing through, this would probably be the only way to track them now.

"Here's something," Esme called from the couch. "Here in Rochester. A double homicide... oh, never mind. That wouldn't be nomads. It was in the city."

"Any mention of missing blood, or animal attacks?" Carlisle asked hopefully. _Some nomads like to hunt in cities._

"No, just a mugging went wrong. They both died from a blow to the head, no wounds mentioned at all." We all sighed in disappointment and kept reading. After we had finished we all sat silently, trying to think of what else to do. Doing _nothing_ was unbearable.

"What about Ontario?" I asked Esme. "Carlisle mentioned that you had wanted to take her there. Do you think she might have gone there?"

"Oh, Edward, do you really think she would have just gone off like that?" Esme sighed. "Besides, we'd never taken her swimming before. I'm not sure it would even occur to her to cross the lake alone." _If I had just kept my head, this wouldn't have happened. I never should have taken her out by myself. I should have waited until she was finished drinking to hunt._

"Esme," I said quietly, "this isn't your fault."

She just shook her head.

"Still, it might be fruitful to check up there," Carlisle said thoughtfully. "There's not much use in searching for her scent at this point, but we could get some more newspapers to look through." _If she was hurt or taken by nomads, they might have been heading up north anyway. There's much less of a police presence over the border._

I shrugged, not knowing what else to suggest. We left a note on the door for Rosalie and headed up into Canada.

.

.

.

Two days later, we still hadn't made any progress. Carlisle was out in the city again, getting one last newspaper.

I found Esme sitting in Rosalie's room, her few belongings still half-packed. She was holding the red tilt hat that Rosalie had worn to her first symphony, fingering the ivy. She didn't even look up at me when I entered.

"What if we never find out?" she asked me. "What if we never know what happened to her?"

I sat down on the box next to hers. "Then we mourn her," I said gently. "I think it's time we accept that she's not coming back."

Esme just shook her head slowly. "No. She's not dead, I just know it. You said it yourself- we would have smelled the fire, no matter how much it rained."

"Maybe we're thinking about this the wrong way," I suggested. "Maybe she did run into some nomads, but decided that she wanted to leave with them. She hasn't even been with us two months, really. It wouldn't be impossible for her to want to try something else."

She looked up at me hopefully. "I didn't think of that. But I can't imagine she would just leave without coming to tell me."

"Maybe she was… distracted. Maybe she fell in love."

Esme smiled sadly. "Perhaps."

I could tell by her thoughts that she didn't really believe me; I didn't believe it myself. But I had to try and give my mother some hope. It broke my heart see her like this. And knowing that I had once done this to her... that was even worse.

We headed downstairs to meet Carlisle, who was just arriving home.

"Still nothing," he sighed as he sat down and began to read the paper. He frowned after a moment. "That's odd… I've never seen so much crime here before."

"What is it?" Esme asked.

"Two more murders happened last night, both local boys. Well, young men, that is. Apparently, they were friends- although they were killed separately, in their own homes."

"That's quite a coincidence," I frowned. "Especially considering the murders the other day. Rochester is really going downhill, isn't it?"

Carlisle read for another moment. "You might have known these young men, Edward- they were both students at the University."

"What were their names?"

"Jerry Smalls and Lionel Jackson. Both nineteen… what a shame. Did you know them?"

An odd feeling twisted in my gut. Jerry and Lionel had been two of Royce's buddies. They were certainly the type to get themselves into trouble, but both murdered on the same night? In separate locations? "Esme, what were the names of the two men that died the other day? The double homicide?"

"Percy Smythe and John Willis. The article mentioned that one of them was a local and one was visiting from out of town. For heaven's sake, Edward, what's the matter?"

I was frozen to my chair, paralyzed. Was it even possible?

"Edward, _what_?" Carlisle asked, leaning forward in his chair.

"I know where she is," I murmured.

"Rosalie?"

"Yes."

My parents jumped up and ran over to where I sat. I finally breathed again, and looked up at them, seeing my horror-filled expression through their eyes.

"She's in Rochester," I finally managed to say. "She knew that we would search for her, so she waited before coming back to do it."

"Do what? What on earth are you talking about?" Esme asked frantically.

"She's killing them. The men that hurt her. First Percy and John, and now the other two. She's killing them all." I shook my head in disbelief. All this time, we had been so worried about her, and this was what she had been up to! I didn't know whether to be disgusted or angry or impressed. How on earth had she managed to hide this from me?

Carlisle and Esme were absolutely still, unbelieving. "She said she wanted them to die," Esme said slowly. "She wanted Edward to go back and finish it. She was so angry, but I never imagined… " she trailed off, unable to comprehend the thought of her daughter killing in cold blood.

I barely heard her. The gears in my head were still turning, and the final shock finally hit me. "She's saved him for last... Royce," I said incredulously. "She's going to kill him next."

"We've got to stop her," Carlisle said decidedly as he headed for the front door. "And I can't do it alone. We all need to go." He opened the door, turning around to wait for us. I joined him, but Esme stood unmoving by the chair I had just left.

"Esme, come on," Carlisle said stiffly.

"No."

He sighed. "Very well. Edward and I will take care of it." _I don't want her to see Rosalie like this, anyway. I wonder if we'll get there in time at all. _We turned to leave.

"No, I don't think any of us should go," Esme said in a clear voice as she looked at her husband.

Carlisle walked back to her side, confused. "Esme, surely you don't want her to kill _again?"_

"We don't have the right to interfere! Rosalie has decided to take her vengeance. It may not be the right thing to do, but she's clearly determined to do it. And what makes you think she'll agree to come with you and Edward peacefully?"

"She's right," I said reluctantly. "We don't want to make a scene. If she's really determined to do this, she's not going to just stop when we find her. If anything, it will make her _more_ violent."

Carlisle looked back and forth between the two of us. "I don't believe this," he said in a low voice.

"This will be the last one," I promised him.

"And after that?" he asked, his eyes darkening. "Five deaths at once, all in a peaceful city that had never seen that level of crime before? The Volturi may get wind of this."

I winced. I hadn't thought of _them_. But now that I had seen Esme's courage, I didn't want to back down either. As much as I hated the thought of Rosalie killing anyone, our mother was right. It _should_ be her choice. "What's more likely to attract their attention, Carlisle? Five deaths? Or four deaths and a battle between three vampires in the middle of the city? You and I might be able to fight silently, but you know _she_ won't."

He swallowed hard. "You both really think we should just let her do this?"

"Yes," I said honestly. "Esme is right. Rosalie _does_ have the right to avenge her human death. Even if the act is wrong, she has the right to do it. She's clearly being careful, and that means that she's not acting impulsively. This is her choice."

Esme smiled sadly at me. _Thank you, Edward._

Carlisle stood silently, reviewing our arguments in his mind for several minutes. Then, he slowly made his way up the stairs to his office, looking old and tired in his defeat. No one spoke for the rest of the day, and we waited in silence for Royce King to die.

.

.

.

Rosalie came back at three in the morning. She was dragging some kind of heavy white cloth behind her, and instead of coming to the house, she went straight to the fire pit in the side yard. She tossed the cloth into the pit, and, taking a book of matches out of the box we kept nearby, started a fire on the cloth. _I know you can hear me_, she thought pointedly. _And I'm done. Royce is dead._

Carlisle and Esme were upstairs talking, and hadn't noticed her return yet. I slipped out quietly and went to stand beside her. I saw now that the white cloth was a wedding dress. As we watched it burn, Rosalie finally relaxed the control on her thoughts, giving me a playback of everything she had done in the last five days. I saw now that she had overheard my conversation with Esme, back when I had told her about killing Charles Evenson; I had been so focused on Esme that I hadn't realized how close she was. Rosalie had heard Esme's relief, and wanted it for herself... but since I was around, she had decided to think about it later. She had run back out, away from the house, pretending to be returning from the woods when I had caught up to her. I had _grossly_ underestimated Rosalie's ability to control her thoughts around me- she had been planning this for at least two weeks.

"I wasn't sure I was going to go through with it, until you and Carlisle went to the hospital," she said to me without emotion. "But with only Esme around, and the rain... it was so easy. I just couldn't leave him alive." She shrugged, looking up at me. Her eyes were dark, but no redder than before. I didn't know how that was possible, but I didn't care. Now that she was safely home, my shock and worry were quickly turning to anger.

"We thought you had been taken," I said through my clenched teeth. "We looked everywhere. Esme has been... Carlisle was... Do you have any _idea_ what you've put this family through? We didn't figure out until this morning that you were perfectly safe, that you were out slaughtering the town!"

She shrugged again. "It was your idea."

Her words hit me like a slap in the face. Would she have even thought to do this, if I hadn't told her about my years away? If I hadn't gone out with every intention of killing Royce myself? If she hadn't overheard me telling Esme about Charles? If she hadn't heard Esme's guilty relief at hearing the news?

"Look," I hissed. "I'm not saying that you weren't justified in what you did. But did you have to leave us like that? To think you were dead, or worse?"

She turned slowly to face me. "I _am_ dead. And if I had told you? Would you have helped me do it? Would they have _let_ me do it?"

"It doesn't matter now, does it?!"

She turned back to the fire, watching in fascination as it reached the tiny pearls that were woven through the bodice of the gown. The threads that held them burned quickly away, leaving the pearls to drip down into the flames like tears. _I didn't think so. _She took a deep, long breath. "Do you think they'll take me back?"

"Let me see the rest," I said sternly, ignoring her question. She played the rest of her memories for me. When she finished, I recoiled in disgust.

"You killed two innocent men?"

"I had no choice," she said flatly. "They were in the way."

I just stared at her again, trying to reconcile this new reality with the girl I thought I had known. She was radiantly beautiful, the firelight dancing off of her skin against the softer glow of moonlight. But now, as I saw her total lack of remorse, her beauty twisted into something ugly and inhuman, and her angelic features seemed to fall under the shadow of the monster she had chosen to become. The idea that my example had helped inspire this transformation made me all the more disgusted. Hadn't Esme and I _specifically_ told her that murder couldn't bring about peace?

"Didn't have a _choice_?" I asked incredulously, my voice growing louder. "You had every chance to turn around! Don't tell me you didn't have a _choice_!"

"I hardly think _you're_ one to judge."

I clenched my teeth. "I never killed innocents," I ground out. "Not once. And I certainly never _tortured_ anyone!"

"Well, then, I suppose that makes you a better monster than me," she said, smiling sadly.

That stopped my anger in its tracks. She had a point. Who _was_ I to judge her? I had killed nearly a thousand men in my own rebellion- and none of them had ever done anything to _me. _

Carlisle and Esme had heard my raised voice and joined us by the fire. Esme was unsure whether she should embrace Rosalie. She held back for a moment, glancing at Carlisle, and then ran forward, catching Rosalie in her arms. "I'm so glad you're all right," she whispered. "We were so worried."

"I'm sorry about that," Rosalie admitted. She pushed Esme away, and turned to face Carlisle. He just stared at her, his thoughts racing. He was surprised that she had returned at all, and he had no clue what to say to her.

"Tell them," I urged her. "Tell them everything."

She did. When Carlisle heard about the two guards that she had killed, his eyes closed and he sank down to his knees in the grass. _I knew I shouldn't have listened to them. It was one thing to let her take her revenge. But two innocent men, dead! And not even so she could feed! What have I created? _

I frowned at him. "She had to kill them, Carlisle. They had seen too much."

Rosalie nodded to me, thanking me in her mind. We both knew that she didn't really _have_ to kill them- she could have chosen to walk away as soon as she saw that Royce was being guarded. But she had been worried about us coming to stop her, and she was determined to kill Royce before that happened. The only thing she had left out of her account to our parents was the part about torturing him, and I wasn't going to be the one to tell Carlisle about _that_. I just hoped that he wouldn't buy any more newspapers.

My own death had been caused by an illness- I didn't have anyone I could blame, or avenge myself on. But if I had, I couldn't be sure if I would have let Carlisle stop me. That would have been _my_ choice. And as much as I was repulsed by what Rosalie had done, I decided to forgive her. What else could I do?

Carlisle was having a more difficult time. He was still kneeling beside Esme, his mind racing. _How can I forgive this? She did this in cold blood. It was murder. And the-_

He stopped when he saw the hurt on my face. He had forgiven _me_. He was thinking now about the outcome of that decision- of the progress that I had made, of how happy I was now. He wondered, for the first time, how I would have turned out if he had refused to take me back. Would I have returned to hunting humans? Would he have ever seen his son again? Neither of us would ever know. And, as simply as that, his decision was made.

He stood up and walked up to his daughter, placing his hands gently on her shoulders. "Rosalie, what you did was wrong. Do you understand that?"

"Yes." _I would do it again, though._

"Then I forgive you."

I would never have expected the change that came over Rosalie's face. Her defiance melted away, and she laid her forehead on her father's shoulder, letting him embrace her for the very first time. "I'm sorry," she mumbled into his shirt. _I'm sorry that I hurt all of you. I'm sorry that I wanted to do it. I'm sorry that I would do it again. I'm sorry that I'm a monster. I really don't deserve this family._

"But we _are_ your family, Rosalie," I said, laying a hand on her shoulder. "And if you still want us, we still want you."

Rosalie pulled away from Carlisle and me, searching his face for any denial of my offer. But I had only said the words a second ahead of him, and he nodded to her. She looked nervously over to Esme, who reached over and embraced her again.

"Of course we forgive you. Our family would never be the same without you! You're our daughter now, sweetheart, no matter what."

Rosalie looked between the three of us lifelessly. _But it won't ever be enough. It won't ever be real. Don't they understand that?_

"We do," I said softly. "And it doesn't matter."

Rosalie turned to search my eyes, hiding her frustration behind an empty smile. She had seemed so content in the past few weeks- so accepting of her new life. But she had been planning her revenge this whole time; now that it was achieved, she seemed... tired. Empty. For the first time, I saw her laying out her future in her mind: an endless, sterile pretense at life, repeating itself over and over without hope. _But at least I won't be alone. _

"I'll stay," she said. It sounded like a surrender.

"I'm glad," Carlisle said. "I truly am. But you must understand, Rosalie. Avenging your death was one thing. And accidents happen. But what you did to those two other men was inexcusable. Nothing like this can _ever_ happen again. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes," she said easily. "I will never kill a human again. I swear it on my life, what little I have left of it."

Carlisle nodded in relief. "All right. We'll continue with our move- it's more important now than ever." _Seven deaths now! We'll be lucky if the Volturi don't get involved. Maybe we should leave the country._

"I don't think that's necessary," I said. "I've seen each of the bodies in Rosalie's mind, and there's nothing that would suggest anything except a human killer."

"But still," he argued, "the sheer number of deaths, and coincidence of how they all knew each other-"

"That makes it even easier. All we have to do is plant the suggestion that someone wanted the whole group dead. They were all notorious gamblers- I could use that somehow. I'll take care of it, Carlisle."

"All right," he said tiredly. _I just want to put this behind us._

"We'll continue on to Tennessee, then?" asked Esme.

"Yes, I don't see why not," Carlisle answered. "As much as I hate to admit it, Rosalie, I am astonished at your control. I really don't know how you managed _not_ to feed on them."

"It was easy," she said firmly. "They were the last people on earth I would have wanted to feed from."

"Still, it was quite a feat for a newborn. Anyway, I'm sure now that you'll be fine going to school with Edward."

And just like that, our plans were back on schedule, like nothing had happened. I looked around at my family- pale, beautiful statues, glistening in the firelight. We were all monsters, in our own way. Rosalie had earned the title this week, and didn't even seem to be sorry. And even Esme, sweet, gentle Esme, had killed... though not on purpose. No doubt some would say she had committed sins far worse than manslaughter- abandoning her husband, her own suicide...even bigamy, in a way. And I was more monstrous than any of them. I had been the vampire from the stories: stalking the city at night, hiding in the shadows as I searched for my human prey. And the potential to kill again was all too real- it had nearly consumed me just a few weeks ago.

And then there was Carlisle. I usually thought of him as the perfect one, our shining leader. But he had once been an enemy of our kind. He had searched through the streets of London, persecuting the monster that he was destined to become. And in a way, he was responsible for all the humans that his family had killed, since he had created all of us. But his worst sin- and this was a matter of my own opinion- had been creating the three of us. If my philosophy was right, then Carlisle had committed the most deplorable act of all, albeit with good intentions: destroying our souls, and committing us to a meaningless existence in the shadows. I could never blame him for this deplorable act of mercy, but he had committed it nonetheless.

No, none of us were perfect. But we loved each other, and we would continue to fight against the murderous instinct that we all carried. We would continue to be as human as possible, and we would do it as a family. If that could bring us some peace, then it would be worth it.

**The End**

* * *

><p><strong>That's it for 1933! Next up is 1935, and the tone should lighten up quite a bit as we meet our favorite goofy vampire :) <strong>

**Thank you all so much for reading and reviewing... your support has made this Tale of Years project so fun! **


	13. Annoucement: Eighty Years posted

Just a quick announcement... I just posted a new one-shot called "Eighty Years". It's a cute little epilogue to chapter three, when Edward and Esme went hunting up in Ontario. Enjoy! (and stay tuned here, there will be one more update eventually to announce the first chapter of 1935)


	14. Announcement: 1935

Just a final note to say that the first chapter of 1935 is up. Enjoy! 


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